The Vampire King’s Nanny (The Vampire King Chronicles Book 7)

by T. S. Ryder

  Her legs felt a little weak as she pulled into her driveway, parked her car and cut the lights. Once the engine had quieted, the sound of hundreds of chirping crickets filled the air around her. The night was pitch black, there was no moon. Agatha lived in a small bungalow at the end of a long solitary lane, far from the center of town. She liked it back here. Her house was her own little space, no noisy neighbors, no sounds other than the occasional car on the road and the endless chirping of the crickets.

  Which had stopped. Agatha tilted her head and listened for a moment, but no, she was right, the crickets had stopped. In fact, everything had stopped. The wind still whistled through the trees, but there were no other sounds. No birds called, no insects buzzed, there was only silence outside.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up as her heart started racing. Something felt wrong, but she didn’t know what. She looked in her mirrors checking behind the car, but she didn’t see anything. The night was dark, but everything looked fine. So why was she suddenly afraid?

  Agatha couldn’t name her fear. It was something primal that came from the deep recesses of her mind. It was instinct pure and simple.

  Get in the house, she told herself. Her arms were shaking as she reached into her purse. She grabbed her cellphone in one hand and her keys in the other. Her eyes were wide as if they were trying to take in every last detail. Still that strange otherworldly silence rang in her ears. Her heart started to pound and the back of her neck tingled.

  It’ll be ok once you’re inside. It was a mantra she repeated to herself. If she could just make it through her front door, everything would be fine. She didn’t know what frightened her, but her instincts told her she wasn’t alone. There was something else in the darkness. She gathered all her courage from within herself. Taking a deep breath, she opened her car door and stepped out, placing one foot on the dirt road of her driveway.

  As if on cue, she heard the unmistakable sound of an animal howling. The howl rang in her ears, it sounded like a wolf and it sounded very close. She gasped and turned towards the noise, her heart hammering in her chest. Maybe it was just a dog? She turned towards her house and focused on her brightly painted blue front door. She had painted it that color last spring. It was like a beacon and as she broke into a run she refused to look anywhere else.

  The howl came again, closer this time. Gasping, Agatha ran towards her front door. She had just hit the cement walkway when she heard the first panting breaths of a large animal. Her eyes went wide as she took desperate gasping breaths. She glanced behind her, but couldn’t see anything. Where was it? What was it?

  Her keys were in her hand. Her door was only a few steps away. Relief flooded her body, she was going to make it. Whatever was out here wasn’t going to get her. She could get inside and call animal control.

  Then she heard the low, wet growl of an angry animal. She froze. Every cell in her body froze, only her heart continued to pump, thumping painfully in her chest. The wolf appeared to her left. At first, it was nothing more than a large shadow in the darkness, but then it moved underneath her porch light. It moved slowly and confidently. With one easy leap, it was on her front steps, blocking her passage to the door.

  The wolf was massive. It was easily three times larger than any dog she had ever seen, including her ex-boyfriend’s German Shepherd. It was almost as tall as she was. It had mangy with scraggly brown hair and blood-tinged drool dripped from its mouth as the animal reared back and bared his long fangs at her. It smelled horrible; a mixture of rot and sweat and wet dog.

  It gave a low, dangerous growl and then, to her horror, it began to move towards her. She staggered back almost falling as her sneakers slipped off the cement walkway. Agatha gave out a muted scream and the wolf growled and snapped its teeth at her. She let out a sob and continued to inch backward. How did it know to block the door? How was this animal that smart?

  She needed to get back to her car. She should never have got out of it. The wolf was growing angrier. Its hackles were raised as more drool slipped from the animal's mouth. It seemed to almost smile at her. Then it was moving, running towards her at a speed she could not have imagined.

  Agatha let out a terrified scream as she tripped and fell back. She was going to die. She was going to be eaten by a wolf in her own front yard. It lunged at her and all she could see was sharp teeth and matted fur before she closed her eyes and lifted her arm to protect her face as best she could.

  The animal let out a painful sounding yelp and Agatha managed to peek from behind her arm. To her horror, she saw that a second wolf had joined them. Agatha was shaking and crying as she pulled her knees up closer to her and wondered what she could have possibly done to deserve this.

  The second wolf was different. It was bigger and completely white. Where the brown wolf had mangy fur and a foul odor, this white wolf was like a well-kept pet. Its fur was clean and smooth, no drool slid from between its teeth.

  Agatha was frozen, stuck in that dangerous place between fight and flight. Her eyes were wide and white, her face was streaked with tears. A sob escaped her lips, then to her shock, the white wolf turned and looked at her. Right into her eyes. And then it nodded towards her car only a few feet away.

  Her jaw fell open, had he come to save her? Was that possible? The brown wolf growled and snapped its jaw at the white wolf who turned to face his opponent, getting down on his haunches in a dangerous pose. He stood between Agatha and the brown wolf, appearing poised to leap should the brown wolf make a move.

  He’s protecting me, she realized and then her brain snapped into gear and she was scrambling for her dropped keys. Agatha got up off the ground as the brown wolf glared at her. He growled and took a step towards her, but the white wolf was right there, blocking the other’s path, giving Agatha the chance to escape.

  “Thanks,” she whispered as she raced to her car, got in and locked the doors.

  Chapter Two

  Agatha’s wasn’t the only wolf sighting that night. The small seaside town of Cryer’s Bluff had over fourteen calls to the police station about a huge, shaggy wolf that had been seen in backyards and parks. Locals had been warned to stay indoors and avoid heavily wooded areas. They were reminded that if they saw a wild animal they should not try to engage with it, but should instead seek shelter and call the police. Agatha had been the only person to see a second white wolf.

  Agatha didn’t return home until the next afternoon. She went to a friend’s house and slept fitfully on the couch. Her nerves were on edge all night. Even the smallest of noises from outside, like leaves rustling or a twig snapping, would pull her from her sleep, jerking her awake, leaving her breathless. It was all too strange and too wild. Agatha’s life was a simple and quiet one. She worked in an office building, she drove a Ford, she just wasn’t used to this level of strange danger.

  It was a bright and sunny afternoon when she returned to her house, but the pleasant weather didn’t put her at ease. Stepping out of the car she could see a paw print in the mud. It was sunk deep down into the mud, the claw marks stood out in stark detail. Whatever had left this had been huge, it must have weighed a ton.

  Skirting the paw print Agatha looked around her. The wind whispered through the trees and the grass. She could hear birds chirping to each other in the forest and she watched as a squirrel skittered up a knobby oak tree. Her stomach churned. This was her home, her favorite place in the entire world, but it was tainted now. She had never been as afraid as she had been last night.

  Her hands were shaking as she pushed her key into the lock and opened the door. She closed the door and locked it behind her. Taking a deep breath, she moved through her kitchen and to her living room. Her heart was pounding and she was still shaking. It was driving her crazy. She was home now and she was safe, so what was making her so nervous?

  Agatha jumped when she heard a noise from outside. She peered through her sliding glass door to her wide back yard. On the back patio, there was a table, a few Adi
rondack chairs, and a couch. It sounded like something had just moved out there. Agatha moved towards the glass slowly, her cell phone clutched in one hand prepared to call the police.

  Step by inching step she moved closer to the door. Her heart was thundering in her chest as she peered around the curtains. At first, everything looked normal. The grass was a verdant green, her daffodils were in full bloom and the furniture was where she had left it.

  Then she saw it. There was a hand hanging over the back of the couch. Her heart skipped a beat when the hand moved. She moved to the side to try and get a better view of who might be out there. She raised her phone debating if she should call the police.

  The hand continued to move, it was pulled back to the other side of the couch. For a breathless moment, she waited and then a head came into view as whoever was out there sat up. He was tall and had a head full of dark black hair. She could tell by his build that he was strong, his shoulders were muscular and those muscles extended down his arms and back.

  Agatha’s mouth fell open as the man ran a hand through his hair and then turned around. With a gasp, Agatha quickly hid behind her curtain. It was her boss. Well, not really. He ran the company where Agatha worked. He was at the top of the totem pole and Agatha, who worked in accounting, barely merited a place on the pole at all.

  She was frozen, hiding behind a curtain when it occurred to her that this was her house and her land. It wasn’t her, but Mr. Crane who should be hiding. He was the one who had fallen asleep in someone else’s backyard, not her.

  Taking a deep breath Agatha pushed open her screen door and marched out onto the patio.

  “Mr. Crane?” Her voice came out high-pitched and more scared sounding than she had intended. He turned to look at her and all of her bravado left as she stumbled on the grass.

  The couch was between them and he turned around to face her. Agatha saw that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She tried not to stare, but she couldn't help but notice the many scars that marked his strong chest. Some were deep and old, with the skin wrinkled and puckered around them, while others still had a tinge of red that marked them as new. She wondered how a man as rich as Mr. Crane had come to have so many scars.

  He looked her up and down and then sheepishly looked away.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked.

  “I um... must have had a little more fun than I expected to, last night. I’m so sorry that you found me like this...” He looked around and gestured to himself and said. “Do you have a robe I could wear and could I trouble you for your phone so I could call a car?”

  Was he naked? She wondered. Was he actually naked on her back patio? That didn’t sound like Mr. Crane at all. His family was famous in Cryer’s Bluff, the town had almost been named after them. Crane Antiques were considered the best antique and custom furniture outlet in the world. Henry Crane, who was currently sitting naked in front of her, was the CEO and principal shareholder. He had graduated from Harvard. His family had never had even a whiff of impropriety against them. The Cranes were perfect. They were rich, intelligent, well-travelled and, above all, incredibly attractive.

  “Sure, just a sec,” Agatha managed to sputter as she hurried inside, grabbed her bathrobe and headed back outside. Her eyes focused on the treetops behind them as Agatha handed Mr. Crane her robe which he quickly belted around himself.

  She still couldn’t believe that Henry Crane was in her backyard. She had worked for him for the last eight years and had only ever seen him in passing. He was notoriously private. He wasn’t an actively social man and people rarely saw him outside of his mansion up on the bluff.

  “Here,” Agatha said holding out her phone. It hung in the air between them as he looked first at it and then up at her.

  “I am sorry, Agatha. I am sorry that you have had to see me like this. I promise I don’t make a habit of sleeping in my employees’ backyards.”

  If only he did, she thought wistfully. A naked man on the property sounded very dangerous unless it was this man. Henry Crane could show up in her backyard naked any day he pleased.

  “You know my name?” She stammered tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he took her phone.

  “Of course, I know your name. You’re one of my best employees.” He said it in such a casual manner that Agatha for a moment thought she had imagined it. Mr. Crane actually knew her? It seemed impossible.

  She knew him of course. She knew everything about him. He was thirty-four years old. He had been born here in Cryer’s Bluff. He had inherited the family business from his father and it had only grown more successful under Henry. He wore dark suits to work and drove fancy cars.

  Agatha rarely had a reason to speak to Mr. Crane at work. He had a fabulously attractive assistant that did most of his communication for him. He always seemed so far away and untouchable, but that had never stopped Agatha from dreaming about him. She had several elaborate fantasies that involved Mr. Crane sweeping her off her feet and taking her away to some private island where the two of them could be alone to do whatever dirty deeds she could imagine.

  “You’re lucky, you know. When I came home last night there were these two huge wolves fighting on my property. It's a wonder you didn't run into them.” Agatha said with a shake of her head.

  It was at that moment that a stunning realization hit her. It was like a ton of bricks had just been thrown directly at her stomach. She lost her breath and the world spun in front of her as the thought seeped into her brain.

  Huge wolves acting strangely at night. A naked man in the backyard. No. It was impossible. They were just stories, not real. There was no such thing as Werewolves and to even say that word in front of Henry Crane would be madness.

  Chapter Three

  “This is a nice house,” Henry said as he walked inside. Agatha knew she should say something, but what? She wasn’t going to actually ask Henry Crane if he was a Werewolf. No, she could never do that. He dialed a number from memory and spoke quietly into the phone in a language she couldn’t understand.

  “Did you see the wolves last night? They were spotted all over town.” She stared at his face watching his reaction. His eyes narrowed and he gave her a stern look. The problem was, a stern look was much less effective when the person giving the look was wearing a bathrobe.

  When she didn’t look away first, he did.

  “My mother used to tell me stories that her grandmother told her,” Agatha continued. His silence had emboldened her. “When my grandmother was just a little girl, Cryer’s Bluff was beset by a huge wolf. It was only ever seen at night and was three times larger than any normal animal. It killed livestock: sheep, cows and pigs. But livestock wasn’t enough. It started hunting people.”

  Without asking, Henry moved into the kitchen and began to open cabinet doors until he found one with water glasses. He quickly filled it from the tap, guzzled it down and filled the glass again.

  “Then it came for people. It knew how to break into houses. People would bar their doors at night, but it wasn’t enough, the wolf would get in anyway. It would break down doors and dive through windows. One horrible night it killed and ate an entire family: the father, mother, and four children all under the age of ten. The Hempstocks they were called.”

  Henry braced himself against the counter as she spoke. He clenched his jaw. His eyes flicked to her, but only for a second before he was compelled to look away. She wanted him to tell her that he had heard the story as well. Everyone in town knew the story. She wanted him to say that it was just a silly myth, a tall tale to frighten children.

  “She said that night was the last straw. The men of the village gathered together. They got their guns and torches and set a trap. They chose the sweetest looking white lamb and broke its back legs. They brought it to the center of town and left it on the steps of city hall. It was bleating and crying as the men set their trap.

  The wolf came, as they knew it would. At first, they tried to catch it in a trap, but it was too big and
it broke through the ropes. But while it was struggling they came out with tar and torches and they burned it there in the center of the town. They thought their nightmare was over, but when the smoke cleared they did not see the body of a wolf, but that of-”

  “A man,” he finished. He grimaced and gripped the countertop as he glared at her. “The body was too burned for anyone to figure out who it was.”

  He stared at her. There was a challenge in his gaze.

  Agatha opened her mouth. She was actually going to do this. She was going to ask if her incredibly hot boss was a Shapeshifter. She took a deep breath, but before she could speak the doorbell rang.

  Without a word, Henry strode to the door and threw it open. His painfully stylish assistant was standing there with a clean suit on a hanger in one hand.

  “Grazie,” he said as he grabbed the suit and walked to Agatha’s bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  “Come in,” Agatha said to Letizia. She was six feet tall and all legs and voluminous hair. She always had the perfect blowout and her make-up always matched her shoes. Even now, after her boss had called her unexpectedly, it looked like she had spent hours getting ready.

  With her arms crossed, Letizia entered the house and walked to the bathroom door, where she began to speak in hurried Italian. Occasionally Agatha could hear Henry responding from the other side, his voice growing angrier with every second that passed.

  “What’s going on?” Agatha asked. She was starting to get annoyed. This was her house after all. She hadn’t invited Henry over. She had just found him, possibly post-transition, in her own backyard. Her questions were only growing. She needed someone to tell her that Werewolves weren’t real and never had been. They needed to tell her that there was no magic in the world, only science. She needed to hear that or she just might very well lose her mind.