Once Upon a Vampire: Tales from the Blood Coven Book 1

by Mari Mancusi

  I felt my cheeks heat. Forcing myself to step into the room, I took a seat on one of the upholstered armchairs. “I’m fine,” I said. “Sorry about that.” I stared down at my lap, wringing my hands together. This was beyond embarrassing.

  “Is that something you do often?” he asked in a soft voice.

  I scowled, digging my nails into my palms. “I told you,” I retorted. “I just cut myself. It’s no big deal.” I squirmed in my chair; if only I could sink into it and disappear.

  His eyes zeroed in on me. “I see,” he said. But I could tell he knew I was lying. Which only made the whole thing more embarrassing.

  “It makes me feel better, okay?” I spit out, surprising even myself. “But I don’t do it often. I mean, I used to do it a lot more. But I stopped. Well, I had stopped. But sometimes, when I get stressed…” I trailed off, my face on fire at this point.

  For a moment, I stared down at my lap. Then, I slowly lifted my head, daring to meet Logan’s gaze. I expected disgust. Maybe pity. But to my surprise there was none. Which only served to make me more upset.

  “This is my fault!” I blurted out. “I did it in the alleyway. That’s why the vampire attacked me. If I could have just had some goddamned self-control--”

  “No.”

  I startled. Surprised at the force behind the word. “But--”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should have never taken you there. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was just…” Now he was the one to look anguished. “I saw you in that bookstore. And I was so angry. To see you blithely taking people’s money. Exploiting our kind. I hated you for doing that. I wanted you to see that this wasn’t just a story to profit from. But real people’s lives.”

  He rose to his feet, his hands clenching into fists. “But taking you there was wrong. I put you at risk. I had no right to do that.” He scowled, slamming his fist against the wall. “And then… Well, I certainly should not have danced with you.”

  I bit my lower lip, my brain flooding back to that magical moment on the dance floor. Logan’s hands circling my waist. His lips pressing against my own. The heat burning between our two bodies. The way my stomach had flopped like a fish out of water at his touch. I waited for the panic to rise inside of me all over again. But to my surprise, instead it was the heat that returned, low in my belly. I blushed again, but this time for a very different reason.

  “I didn’t mind the dancing,” I admitted quietly. “It was kind of nice actually.”

  He gave a brittle laugh. “Then why did you run screaming for the exit?”

  I snorted. “Let’s just say… I don’t get out much. And I certainly don’t date. Not even humans.”

  He turned to face me. “Don’t tell me no one asks you out.”

  “It’s not that.” I shook my head. “It’s…a long story.”

  “And yet we’ve got nothing but time.”

  My heart thudded in my chest. Suddenly I wanted to tell him. Which was insane, crazy. I never talked about what happened to me that night. Not even to Darla. And the fact that I wanted to tell him—a practical stranger and a monster to boot—was terrifying. And didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t trust this guy. Not with my lunch order, never mind my most painful secret. Maybe he was using his compulsion again—that vampire scent. Trying to get me to show weakness. So he could gain the upper hand.

  Well, that wasn’t going to work on me. Not anymore.

  “Enough about me. After all, aren’t I here to learn about you?” I asked slyly, deftly changing the subject. “That was the whole reason you wanted me to come with you in the first place, right? So I could learn how to write real vampires?”

  For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked at me with those piercing eyes of his. As if he could see into my very soul. Then he chuckled softly. “I suppose it was,” he agreed. He settled back in his chair and set the book on a nearby table. “Very well, ask me what you will.”

  “How did you become a vampire?” I asked, figuring it was as good as any as a starting question. “Were you born or made?”

  “No one is born a vampire. Vampirism is a disease. Someone has to give it to you.”

  “Who gave it to you? And how old are you anyway?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  I raised an eyebrow. He laughed.

  “You were expecting me to say a thousand, yes? Some vampires are that old. Many actually. But I was turned seven years ago. When I was twenty-eight years old.” He smiled. “Thank God it wasn’t when I was still a teenager like the vampires you see in the movies.” He made a face. “Living through high school once was plenty, thank you very much.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Why do they do that, anyway?” I asked. “The whole vampire in high school thing? I mean, they could be out solving crimes or curing cancer or something. There has to be a better use of their eternal life than eternal high school.”

  “I don’t think any real vampires attend high school,” he assured me. Then his eyes twinkled. “And I’ve never seen any of them sparkle.”

  “Aw. That’s actually kind of disappointing.”

  It was only then that I realized he hadn’t answered the first part of my question. Who gave him vampirism? Maybe it was a sensitive subject. I decided not to bring it up again. At least for now.

  “So if you’re just a vampire newb, how come you were dressed like you stepped right off the pages of a Regency romance novel back at the bookstore?” I asked curiously. “You know, when you first came to my signing? Is that a vampire fashion thing? Like, for us, the nineties are back. For you it’s the 1890s?”

  He laughed. “I’d nearly forgotten about that. No. It’s not a vampire thing. Definitely not. In fact, the last thing vampires want to do is stand out. To draw attention to themselves. Plus, those old fashioned clothes are so damn itchy.” He grinned. “I was on my way to a birthday masquerade, as a matter of fact, and had only stopped by the bookstore to get a present for the birthday boy. You saw me in full on Mr. Darcy mode.”

  I nodded appreciatively. “Well, it was a good look on you,” I teased. “Everyone thought you were my vampire hero.”

  He laughed, placing a hand to his chest. “Did you ever know that you’re my hero?” he started singing, channeling his inner Bette Midler. “And everything I would like to be!”

  I groaned, grabbing a nearby pillow and throwing it in his direction. He caught it and gave me a wicked grin. “See? Nineties kid. Through and through. Also, karaoke master.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Anyway,” I said. “Back to our Q and A. So what parts of the vampire mythos did Hollywood get right then?”

  Logan seemed to consider this for a moment. “Most of it isn’t far off,” he said after a pause. “Holy water, churches, stakes—though they don’t have to be made of wood to work. Cutting off a vampire’s head also does the job. Though,” he added. “I suppose cutting off anything’s head would do the trick.”

  “Except zombies,” I pointed out.

  He grinned. “You don’t seriously believe in zombies, do you?”

  “Dude, after today I’m ready to believe in the Easter Bunny.”

  “Touché.” He shifted in his seat. “In any case, as I mentioned before, we don’t drink people dry. We have contracted blood donors. And we don’t just randomly turn people into vampires either. We have a very specific vampire certification program each person has to go through before they are approved to become one of us.”

  “You have a vampire in training program?”

  “Don’t laugh! Remember, vampires live forever. We have to make sure each person is someone we can deal with for eternity.”

  “Hm. Good point.” I thought about some of the people I’d met over the years who I definitely didn’t want to see achieve eternal life. Glad these vampires were picky.

  “They’re also given a partner,” he added. “They call it a Blood Mate. They’re the ones who turn the new vampires by sharing their blood and drin
king some of their partner’s. They bond together and spend eternity by one another’s side.” He shrugged. “Sort of like soul mates, but without actual souls.”

  “Do you have a blood mate?” I couldn’t help but blurt out. Then I blushed. Was that like asking a vampire if he had a girlfriend?

  He stared down at the ground and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer. But finally he looked up. “I did,” he said. “But she killed herself.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  “She was a thousand years old. She was sick of living, I guess. Bored of eternal life.” He gave me a rueful look. “That’s the number one killer of vampires, you know. Boredom. The world changing all around them, while they stay the same.” He paused, then added, “That’s why I took such objection to your character Jonathan. He’s been around for two thousand years, right?”

  “Close to that.”

  “And yet he has such a vibrant love for life. Such passion for Maisie. I don’t know if I buy that.”

  “It’s just a book. It’s not supposed to be real.”

  He sighed loudly. “I know, I know. And I already apologized. I’ll totally delete that one-star review.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. So you keep saying.”

  “How did you become a vampire writer anyway?” he asked. “Did you actually grow up liking them? Or was it just because of that dream you mentioned?”

  “A little of both,” I admitted. “My Mom was a total goth girl and was always taking me to vampire movies and such. But that dream! I mean it was like Jonathan literally came to me. Fully formed. As if he were real and asked me to write his story.”

  “So you are legit Interview with a Vampire,” Logan teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” I shook my head. “Anyway, I started writing. And I put the first book up online to see how it would do. I expected to make like ten bucks. Instead, I made close to ten million.”

  Logan gave a low whistle. “People really want to read about vampires that badly?”

  “Evidently so. My readers are truly--”

  But I never got a chance to finish the sentence. A crash interrupted me, followed by the sound of shattering glass. I glanced over at Logan, my heart in my throat. He was already on his feet. A moment later an alarm began to wail.

  “They must have found us somehow,” he said in a low voice. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

  12

  I somehow managed a nod, glancing nervously at the door. But Logan, it seemed, had other plans. He pulled up a rug, revealing a trapdoor.

  “You have a real life secret passage?” I couldn’t help but ask. Man, this house really did have everything, didn’t it?

  He didn’t answer, concentrating on lifting up the door, which revealed a dark pit—and a ladder leading into nothingness. I swallowed hard. I hated closed-in spaces. But the shouts of the intruders were getting closer and it seemed this was our only option of escape. I would have to find a way to deal.

  “We have the place surrounded,” one of them yelled, as if to prove my point. “Come out now, or we will come and get you ourselves.”

  Logan motioned for me to go first. Of course. Sucking in a breath, I forced my feet to obey, my entire body shaking with fear. My hands wrapped around the rungs of the ladder as I started down, step by step, until I was completely engulfed in blackness. I gritted my teeth; did no one ever think of installing a light switch in their secret tunnel? Would that have been so damn hard?

  I could hear Logan above and tried to concentrate on the sound of his own feet, hitting each rung as he followed me down. Reminding myself that at least I wasn’t alone.

  But that thought wasn’t nearly comforting enough once Logan pulled the rug back over the trap door and closed it behind us, eclipsing the small sliver of light from above. Now we were in total cave darkness and I had to bite down on my lower lip, so as not to whimper with fear.

  I would have made a very crappy book heroine. But you try being brave at a time like this. See how you do!

  Down and down I went. How deep was this pit anyway? Would it really bring us somewhere safe? Was there anywhere safe anymore?

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I felt my feet connect with the floor. I dropped down, practically moaning in relief at the feeling of solid ground beneath me. A moment later, I felt Logan step down next to me. He reached out, finding my hand and taking it into his own. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  “Tell me you didn’t forget the flashlight,” I managed to squeak.

  His warm laugh rippled through the air. “Don’t worry, little writer. I can see just fine down here.”

  Okay then. Vampire night vision. Check. One more fun fact for the day.

  And so I had no choice but to let him lead, down the blackened passageway, so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. My other hand was having a much better time of things, locked in Logan’s own. His grip was strong, yet gentle. Cool in temperature, but warm in intention. As if to assure me he had things under control. That he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Not under his watch.

  It shouldn’t have made me feel better, but somehow it did.

  We walked for what felt like forever, but was probably only ten minutes or so. When we finally stopped, I heard something—the scrape of a lock? A moment later a sliver of light appeared. A door was opening. I let out a breath of relief as Logan ushered me inside. Thank God. No more darkness.

  We emerged into a luxurious looking hallway, walls covered with paintings from famous artists that didn’t look like replicas. Logan closed the door behind us then turned to me, his eyes piercing down at me, assessing my well-being.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I managed a nod. “Who were those people?” I asked. “Other vampires?”

  “I believe they were from Slayer, Inc.,” he replied.

  I winced, remembering him talking about Slayer, Inc. earlier. If they were really after us…

  “But you were only protecting me!” I protested, even as guilt swam through my stomach. No matter what Logan said, I knew this was my fault. And now they had a hit out on him, because he had saved my sorry ass.

  “Right. Well, that’s what I’m going to try to explain when I plead my case,” he replied. “While the life of a mortal doesn’t hold as much value to the Consortium than that of a vampire’s, there’s still a strict code against attacking humans.”

  I pursed my lips. His argument sounded weak at best. I sure hope it worked. I looked around. “Where are we, anyway?” I asked.

  “The Blood Coven headquarters.”

  “What?” My heart started beating fast again. We were in a vampire coven? An actual, legit, underground vampire coven? Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire. “But won’t they turn us in if they find us here?”

  “I am going to talk to the Master,” Logan explained. “Jareth is a good man. If anyone will understand, he will.”

  The hallway dead-ended at a wooden door, guarded by two men. Two vampires, to be precise. When they saw me, they gave me a disapproving once over, their eyes raking from my head to my toes. As if I were gum they had discovered on the bottoms of their shoes.

  They turned to Logan. “What is it?” the first one asked. “The Master is very busy.”

  Logan returned their look. “He won’t be too busy for me.”

  The guards exchanged glances, then shrugged. The second one turned to open the door behind him. “Wait here,” he said, before slipping through and closing it again. I glanced at Logan, my body still humming with nerves. He gave me a sympathetic smile and reached out to squeeze my hand.

  Gah! His cool, strong touch sent spirals of feels spinning out to every extremity. Seriously, what was it about this guy that made my body sing like a canary, every time he came close? Was it the vampire scent thing? But no, the guard standing in front of me was also a vampire. And he was doing nothing for me. Nor had the guy outside the club—even
before he attempted to drain me dry.

  It was Logan and Logan alone who got my engines purring. And that could turn out, I realized, to be a huge problem.

  I started to pull my hand away. But at that moment the guard returned. He ushered Logan through the door. “You stay here,” he said to me in a curt voice. “No humans allowed beyond this point.”

  I glanced down the empty hall, my nerves returning with a vengeance. “Here?” I asked. I shot a pleading look at Logan. I didn’t want to be left alone. Not with Slayer Inc on our tails.

  “At least let her come into the waiting room,” he said to the guard.

  The vampire didn’t look happy, but widened the door and allowed me in.

  We stepped into a plush waiting room, all decked out in velvet and crimson. These vampires really did like the whole Victorian-chic thing. Once inside, I obediently sat myself down on one of the sofas and grabbed a magazine. It was a tabloid, funny enough. Race Jameson the rock star was on the cover. Wait, was he a vampire? That would explain a LOT.

  I looked up, realizing Logan was still staring at me, a concerned expression on his face. “Go, do your vampire thing,” I told him. “I’m good here.”

  He looked relieved and turned back to the guard who led him into the inner chamber, where evidently the big bad vampire master was. I watched them go, preparing to turn back to my magazine and read the Race Jameson story—I’d always been a big fan. But before I could, a teenage girl danced out the door the vampires had just exited from. She stopped when she saw me, raising an eyebrow.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  I stared at her. She had dyed, black shoulder-length hair, pale skin, red lips. She was wearing this lacy black dress paired with heavy looking combat boots. But it wasn’t her outfit that threw me the most. It was how familiar she looked.

  “You’re…?” I racked my brain trying to place her.

  “Rayne McDonald,” she said. Then her mouth broke out into a huge smile. “I’m your biggest fan!”

  Wait, what?