The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Very Unusual Romance (The Cowboy and the Vampire Collection Book 1)

by Clark Hays

  There is no such thing. There is no such thing. There is no such thing as vampires.

  Jenkins clearly had no interest in my nude body as he helped me dress. After politely admiring the fit of the dress, he held out silver handcuffs with filigree around the edges. I faced him quietly, with the recognition that I had no power here. I would have to see this charade through to the end.

  There is no such thing, there is no such thing, there is no such thing as vampires, I chanted in my head.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I nodded. I didn’t believe they would kill me. The worst, I imagined, was that I’d get cut a little, maybe raped, certainly terrified, but not murdered. At some point, Julius would have to get bored with me. I could only hope. And pray.

  Jenkins gently pulled my arms behind me and cuffed my wrists together. He led me to the door.

  “Elita will take you to the ritual rooms.”

  “You’re not joining in the fun, Jenkins?” I said with much more bravado than I felt.

  “No, madam. I have never entered the chambers and have no wish to do so now.”

  “Why won’t you help me?” I said, quietly. “Please help me. Get a message to the police.” I dropped to my knees. “You like me, I can tell. I’m begging you, please, I’m scared. These people are crazy. Help me.”

  Something like sadness darkened his eyes. “For better or worse, we all must live out our destiny,” he said. “Mine is to simply tend to the fire. Yours, however, is to burn. My sense is that you may do more good than you can possibly imagine. Soon, perhaps, you will have more power than Julius.”

  He helped me to a standing position.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It’s my way of helping you,” he said. “Remember this conversation in your darkest hours after you are turned.”

  “They must pay you a lot,” I spat venomously.

  There was a knock at the door and Elita poked her head inside the room. “Are we ready, boys and girls? The fun is about to begin!”

  “How long will this little escapade last?” I asked, feigning indifference. “And if I’m a good little victim, can I leave when it’s over?”

  Elita smiled. “Of course. Do as you wish, but I suspect you will find it in your heart to remain with us. Your choices will be rather limited, you may find, at least for the first several decades.”

  “Let’s get on with it so I can go home,” I said.

  As Elita led me down the stone stairs, the heavy door closed behind us and a metal bolt was dragged into place. It was hard to make out anything other than a faint glow at the bottom of the stairs. I walked mechanically, as if descending into hell, step by hideous step. Elita grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me faster.

  Drawing back, I whispered savagely at her. “Don’t touch me, don’t ever touch me again. From this moment on, all who stand in my way are my enemy. And you had best be sure of your allegiances.”

  Elita shrank back from the ferocity and power of my voice and I enjoyed watching fear rise in her eyes, if only temporarily. The words came unbidden, as if from a stranger, an unfamiliar will inside my body and mind. Don’t worry, I heard it whisper, we are here for you.

  There was no time to listen. Julius was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, enshrouded by shadows and barely illuminated by the dim light from thick, waxy candles placed around the room.

  There were massive stone walls sweating beads of moisture, a cold, cobblestone floor and two caskets against the wall.

  Julius stepped forward and bowed. Imperiously, I passed by him and circled the room, arms still held behind me by the handcuffs. I sensed his surprise at my composure. The apparent confidence, despite the absurdity of my predicament, was equally surprising to me. I paused in my stroll at the second casket. Lined in lush purple velvet, constructed plainly but solidly of oak, stained a light brown, it was elegant, exactly the type of casket I would have picked out for my own funeral.

  “It was constructed with you in mind,” he said.

  “It’s attractive enough I suppose,” I said.

  “It now belongs to you,” Julius said. He approached me like a cat to its prey, and my body tensed as he came near. “It is time to begin.”

  “Let’s dispense with the ceremonies, the little arcane procedures and other notions you may have in mind for this evening. Just do what is absolutely essential.”

  He nodded. “As you wish. After tonight, after you have been turned, you will be mine, and you will do my bidding. For tonight, I will do yours.”

  “Whatever.” I turned to regard Elita. “Must she be present?” I said, my tone dripping with disdain.

  “She is here to attend you as your lady-in-waiting.”

  “I want no one here but you,” I said.

  Elita looked at Julius and something quiet passed between them.

  She left the room, ascending the staircase. I listened carefully to her footsteps, heard the creak of the heavy door, and waited for the next expected sound. It did not come. Elita had not bolted the door.

  My heart quickened at this unexpected turn of luck. Or was it luck?

  Taking my arm, Julius led me silently to the center of the room to stand on a tiled circle inlaid in the stone floor. It was dark blue on the outside, with a red interior. At the very center was a single eye, green with a jet-black iris, fully open and staring up. Julius walked around me, circling several times, but said nothing, just growled deep in his throat.

  Finally, he spoke, quietly, seductively. “I’ll remove your handcuffs, but you must behave.”

  He did so and I remained motionless.

  He purred and breathed and surrounded me with the sound of his voice. “Remove your clothing.”

  I obeyed, no longer thinking about what would happen or why, hypnotized by the timbre of his voice.

  My dress fell into a heap around my ankles, leaving me nude and exposed. A twisted energy passed between us, palpable, and I heard his voice, unmistakably, inside my mind. “Be not afraid. What you will undergo has been passed down since the dawn of creation. Tonight, I will become your creator.”

  I tried to block it out, screaming my own thoughts, but his voice echoed louder. “I will be unto you as your mother, your father, your God, your husband, your child, your lover, your witness. I will be all to you for eternity. I will bring you into the darkness, will bring you into the world of the undead where you are to fully live and live fully, within your royal heritage and beside me forever.”

  He touched me gently on the small of my back and turned me around three times counterclockwise. “Stretch your arms above your head.”

  I obeyed without questioning and felt blood rushing through my body, felt myself pulling involuntarily toward Julius, and felt heat emanating from his body to mine as if our bodies spoke a wordless, sacred language unto themselves.

  “Remain thus.”

  Julius took a small knife from his vest pocket. It glinted in the candlelight. He looked intently in my eyes, holding them silently. There was a sudden ache deep in my womb — the pain so intense, I doubled over.

  “No,” said Julius hoarsely. “Keep your arms above your head or I will chain you.”

  Above my head, iron hooks dangled from the ceiling and I knew he would hang me from them if I disobeyed.

  Despite the deep ache inside me, the searing pain shooting through my hips, I stretched my arms, my body, pretending that I was stronger than I knew myself to be. Julius moved the knife close to me, looking still into my eyes.

  Damn you, I will not give you the satisfaction, I will not give in to the fear. He touched my breast softly, like a feather falling onto my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to maintain control, but desire involuntarily swelled inside me, lying low beneath the pain in my belly, a desire so powerful I feared it would shatter me.

  Then, a quick cut down the center of my chest and I felt the skin and flesh part. Blood welled and dripped from between my breasts. There was no pain, just a deepen
ing of intense desire for him, for this man who was defiling me, killing me.

  I dared not open my eyes. To look at him would mean the end of me. I prayed that he, too, would remain silent. I feared his voice would swallow me, would make me want him in a way beyond my control.

  “You cannot resist me,” he said “I will win you completely and you will be glad of it.” His voice echoed inside my head.

  Pain flared and crashed through me; I welcomed it as a weapon against my physical desire. I cracked open my eyes and saw Julius, head bowed before me. He placed his mouth over my wound, sucking the blood from me lovingly, longingly. The taste seemed to overwhelm him, the rich warmth of my blood flooded his hungry mouth.

  He gasped and shuddered against me. “How long I have waited for this moment,” he whispered.

  I weakened, felt his power enter me like when a man first enters a woman, when Tucker first entered me, breath stolen by the wind. The flow of blood draining from between my breasts mingled with the dull, insistent pain pulsating in my womb and the waves of desire for him that were swallowing me.

  I closed my eyes again, allowed myself to be swept away. I felt my blood thicken and my heart slow, and knew it was over. I was dying, yet even in the midst of my death, I was lost inside the immensity of his power, of my response to him.

  And then I heard a scream. From deep inside me. Tucker. It was Tucker.

  Screaming in agony, tortured, his pain at losing me ripped through my mind. In the span of a second, I was transformed. I looked down at Julius, still bent to my breasts, and knew exactly what had to be done.

  I arched my body as if locked in desire, mimicking the movements he wanted. Julius’ mouth left my breasts and he placed his now trembling hands around my waist, pulling me to him. He pressed his mouth to mine. I tasted crimson and copper, felt my own blood being pushed back inside my mouth. “Swallow your own life,” he said and I did, despite my revulsion. I felt a stab of pain in my womb and blood trickled down my thighs.

  Julius pulled back, his lips and cheeks red with my blood. He knelt before me, spreading my legs, greedily licking blood from my thighs as it dripped from inside. I felt the roughness of his tongue, the glossy blood being twirled and teased in his mouth like wine.

  He growled, making the noises that mesmerized me earlier, but now sickened me. “Oh my love, my sweet, this is our union. Wider, spread them wider.” He was completely lost in his desire for me. Again, I saw the glint of his knife. He cut himself, but I was not sure where. Cupping his own blood in his hands, he pooled it inside his mouth and then pressed his lips between my legs, pushing his blood inside my womb, mixing it with my own. “My life is inside your life now. You are forever eternal. You are mine and I am yours.”

  Though I was repulsed, something involuntarily contracted inside me. My body shook, spasms ripped through my flesh and muscles, through every cell.

  Julius knelt before me, eyes glazed. “My love,” he whispered, “my one true love. My queen …”

  My body fell toward the floor. Jenkins’ last words to me echoed in my head, and even farther away I heard Elita laughing.

  I had no idea how much time had passed, an hour or an eternity, when I regained consciousness. Power surged inside me, I felt strong, a rush of adrenaline. The pain was gone. The wound on my chest had disappeared although blood was everywhere. Next to me, Julius lay in a crumpled heap, breathing deeply. What had he done to me while I was passed out?

  Never mind, I thought, just get out.

  Grabbing the discarded dress, I sprinted up the stairs, jerking the heavy door open. Jenkins was waiting. He peered past me and saw the crumpled form of Julius. Shit. Now what? I knew I could take the old man, I felt strong and invincible and balled my hands into fists.

  He placed his finger to his lips, motioning me to be quiet, then led me out into the darkened gardens. I struggled back into my clothes as I followed him. A shadow passed close by and the smell of cloves filled my senses. Elita. I paused, ready for a fight with the bitch, the adrenaline pumping through my body.

  “Come quickly, my dear,” urged Jenkins in response to my hesitation.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “There are forces at work here that you do not yet understand, and I hope to be on the side of the winner.”

  “Me, a winner?” I asked incredulously.

  “You will not be the loser.”

  “Stop talking in riddles.”

  “Please, just follow me, we haven’t much time,” he said. “Listen carefully. There has been no time to instruct you properly. You will unfortunately have to learn the hard way if you are to survive. You need food, blood. You must feed tonight. And remember, do not, under any circumstance, allow yourself to be found by the light of day. The sun will destroy you. You now embody the dark side, a side which cannot bear the light.”

  With these words, he opened the door onto the sidewalk and pushed me out onto the darkened streets of Manhattan.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Julius stood by the window, arms folded. “Tell me again how she escaped.”

  Elita sat, hands in her lap, near the fire. “It’s unclear. She seems to …”

  He cut her off with a wave. “I don’t want supposition. I want to know where our security failed and whom I shall kill for this.”

  “Perhaps we …”

  “Did I say kill?” he said. “What I meant was torture. Who shall endure unspeakable agonies for this lapse in security?” He spun and faced her. “Well?”

  “Julius, what happened in the chamber?” Elita asked. “Did she attack you?”

  He cut her off with a savage wave. “Learn your place. Yours is not to question. Yours is to obey. She escaped from the chambers and that is enough. There is no excuse for her escaping the compound.”

  Elita bit back an angry retort and felt her body flush with anger. She nodded her head. “You are right, of course. Tell me what to do.”

  He sneered. “Do I have to spell it out? Find her. Kill who you must, but find her and bring her back. Now.”

  Elita stood and crossed to the door and as she opened it Julius called out. “Wait.” Her undead heart skipped a beat. “Where were you during the turning?”

  She paused. “Are you accusing me?”

  “I’m simply not underestimating you,” he said. “Where were you?”

  “Feeding. Do you want to see the corpse?” she asked.

  “Perhaps. Later.”

  She slammed the door and stood in the hall, fighting back the fear that was slowly infecting her mind. If Julius learned the truth, her life was over. She took a deep breath and lit a cigarette with trembling hands.

  He suspected, of that she was sure, but it was far too late to stop it now. To have orchestrated Lizzie’s escape so soon after her turning signed both their death warrants. Alone and with no mentor to explain the change, Lizzie would perish. Of hunger or insanity, or from the sun. And if Julius found out the truth, she herself would be chained in the sun.

  Elita was committed to this risky course of action. There was no end to it until it ended itself. Hopefully, that end would be to her liking. If Lizzie miraculously survived and made it to Lazarus, she would still be far enough away from Julius to pose no threat to Elita. With Lizzie out of the picture, her place beside Julius would be secure for at least the next seven hundred years.

  Confidence returning, she stubbed out the cigarette.

  Back inside the study, Julius fumed. That Lizzie’s escape occurred at all was undeniably his fault. He passed out. In the name of all things unholy, what was happening to him? His power had never taken such an unexpected turn. Like some feeble Adamite, he allowed his passions to claim him, had been transported by the union he forged between them. He reached out for her soul with his own and felt them touch, briefly, in the Meta and then succumbed to the explosion of unexpected power there.

  Unacceptable. He was the master, she a mere whisper of the potential that could develop in a dozen centuries under
his tutelage.

  And yet, when he woke, he found himself alone and drained as if he was the acolyte and she the master. There was an emptiness in his soul, and he feared perhaps she had seen something there and taken it from him. Something crucial and needed.

  The image of her swirled up from the depths of his memory, standing naked and proud before him, her breasts and thighs dripping blood, its taste hot in his mouth. An involuntary tremble racked him, nearly bringing him to his knees and he gasped unexpectedly at this convulsion.

  He stood unsteadily and reached for the decanter of cognac. The liquid did little to quell the feelings unraveling in him. As ludicrous as it seemed, he felt like crying.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Rex sat quietly beside me for what felt like eternity until an older gentleman with a cane came up the street. It had been my plan to wait for just such an opportunity and then grab the door after he went in.

  I was all kinds of inconspicuous, but he saw me anyway, pulled a can of mace out and held it ready as he keyed the door and pulled it shut behind him with a click. Clearly, my chivalrous manner of breaking and entering was not going to work in New York. I gave the door a solid kick with my boot heel and the lock buckled with a satisfying pop.

  Her name was stenciled above one of the mailboxes, 12b. Thank the Lord or, rather, thank Lenny, my duffel addressed to Lizzie was right there in the hall. I grabbed it and backed into the elevator, one of those old-timey metal cages with a sliding door. Even sitting still it was noisy, so I took the stairs to the third floor.

  The hallway was quiet and empty. Rex’s nose was working furiously as we tiptoed our way toward her door. No kicking was required, the door was unlocked, and inside, pieces of her were everywhere.

  The apartment was empty, like the cabin when she first disappeared, only quieter and more still, like the bottom of a settled pond. I moved through it like a ghost myself, looking at what her life had been and trying to learn from the remainders. I hoped to get a sense of where she might be, but all I came up with was sadness.