The wife came running out, her face white, hands covering her open mouth.
Before she could scream, I raced toward her, sinking my fangs into the juicy flesh of her neck.
So much for not wasting good blood.
I decided not to kill her right away. Instead, I dragged her unconscious form inside, closing and bolting the door behind us. I would deal with the husband’s body before dawn.
The children were sound asleep in bed – I assumed – so I would have ample time to restrain the mother before they woke.
Searching the cottage, I gathered enough linens for my purpose, tearing them and tying the mother up, gagging her for fear that she might try to scream for help, and stemming the flow of blood from her neck to save her from death.
She stirred several times, groggy from the blood loss, but still breathing – for the time being. While she sat, propped against the wall, I returned to the gardens and disposed of the man’s body in the river; remaining indifferent as he splashed beneath the cold waters. I watched his carcass drift downstream before retreating back indoors.
The wife, now awake and alert, looked at me, eyes bulging in sheer horror, tears falling fresh down her face. She tried to mumble something from behind the gag around her mouth.
I indulged her.
Bending down beside her, I warned, “Scream, and I will murder thy children while they dream. Dost thee understand?” I removed the gag as she nodded.
“P-please,” she started, her Scottish brogue thick, “don’t hurt them. I can help thee.”
Ha! No-one could help me anymore… I possessed a soul broken beyond repair.
“I know of what ye are,” she whispered, looking away from me.
I creased my brow. “Do not lie to me wench, ye know nothing of what ails me.”
“Oh, but I do.” She retrained her gaze upon me, held it fast for me to see the truth behind her eyes. “Ye have no need to kill for the sport; there be a way for thee to exist in peace.”
Peace? What did she know of my peace?
“There be others like thee, here, in this village.” She rushed through her words, desperation entwined with each one. “I pray, allow me to be of service to thee.”
She hath no idea of what she speaks.
“Stop,” I breathed. “Begone with your mindless ranting.” I stood, gripping my hair, shaking my head. “I cannot stand it.”
“Fight it,” the lady whispered, barely discernible through the voices in my head.
“I can… fight—”
You cannot beat me, Lucas Drake. The woman is fraught, scared for her children. She will say anything. Kill her now, all of them. Their blood be damned; ye will find more.
“No!” I yelled, louder this time.
“Mummy?”
The sweet voice seized me. I turned to face the speaker.
Between the two rooms, a little boy stood, no older than my seven year old Thomas, with the same brown hair and blue eyes, glossy with unshed tears. He clutched a threadbare clothed animal against his chest.
“Who be thee?” he asked, his voice meek, frightened.
I opened my mouth to reply, but I did not know the answer any longer.
“He needs our aid, sweet boy,” his mother soothed. “Untie me, then return to your bed, ‘tis nigh to dawn.”
With hesitant steps, the boy walked toward his mother, his eyes fixed on me. After he released her from her bonds, he did as instructed, and went back to his bed.
Rubbing her wrists, the mother stood. “They are coming for thee.”
No longer than the last word doth leave her lips, then came a sharp rap at the door.
“I invite thee into my abode,” said the woman, before the door opened.
A man strode toward me, a red-haired man with a matching beard that reached his chest. “Follow me,” he instructed, drawing a broad sword, “or I will kill ye on the spot.”
Chapter 18
I asked no questions, while the tall, bearded man dragged me from the cottage and out, into the cool night. Nor did he speak another word.
Into the hills he dragged me, away from civilization and from anyone to whom I could cause further devastation.
“Wither dost thou take me?” I finally asked. Met only with silence, I persevered. “Who be thee? What be thy name?” I struggled in his large hand, but to no avail. I could not even protest my innocence to this man, in the hopes that he would free me, and so I let him continue to pull me toward the unknown.
We stopped before a manmade entrance buried in the hills.
Unlocking the door, the man urged me into the well-lit tunnel first, after which he bolted us back in.
“You are newly turned.”
It didn’t strike me as much of a question; more a statement of fact.
“Aye.” I saw no point in lying; clearly he knew me to be vampire.
“You cannot kill a man in this town without drawing attention to thyself. Ye are lucky ‘twas I who smelled his body first.” He strode beside me. “Ye will be forgiven for past indiscretions, but ye will kill no more innocents, understand?”
I nodded while we continued to walk.
We entered an empty room, the mud walls holding flaming torches, lighting the small chamber with ease.
“I will take ye to see someone who can help, but first, I must explain our heritage to you.” He pulled two wooden chairs into the middle of the room. “Be seated,” he told me, taking one for himself.
Sitting, I remained silent, allowing him to talk.
“You are vampire, and you have a choice to make the night.” He paused, whether for effect, or whether for a response, I did not know. But then he continued, “My name is Quinn Webster, and I can either help you, or kill you; ‘tis for you to decide.”
∽∽∽
For hours, Quinn told me of our history – of good versus evil.
All the while, the voices in my head screamed at me, taunted me, made me feel worthless enough to believe Quinn when he told me it didn’t have to be this way.
He recounted his own battle with the bloodlust – that satanic voice at the back of thy mind, urging you to snuff out the lives of the innocent.
“Ye do not have to kill the blameless for the joy of it,” he told me. “Humanity can live within thee; cast out the demon cajoling thee and restore thy compassion.
“You are undead… thy human body is deceased, but thy human soul remains, and with it, thy empathy. Search for it; it is there.”
I nodded, swallowing hard, reaching deep for those emotions experienced not long ago – the loss, the pain, the heartbreak. But even before that… the happiness, the pride, the love.
“The more you listen to the evil battling for thy conscious mind, the more power ye will eventually yield to it.” Quinn leaned forward in his seat. “It will devour you whole, and it will never stop; the more you take for it, the more it takes from you, and the stronger its presence becomes. Not just for you, but for any more of our kind created in the future. Release it, and ye will feel thine own strengths grow.”
I understood completely. At the moment, the evil inside me could only feed on the power I gave it. As much as I hated the thought, I would need to constantly remind myself of the torment of the life I left, and also of the joy once felt, to remind myself of that which I would fight to the death for.
But one question bothered me. “How will I resist the temptation of blood? We cannot feed from animals, how will I fight the urge to kill to live?”
Quinn looked at me, his brow wrinkled. “We can live on animal blood. It tastes like the water from a latrine in comparison, but it can sustain us.”
It would appear that Elisabet had lied to me – not surprising, considering the company she kept.
“Ye need not bother thyself with that, however,” Quinn continued, interrupting my thoughts. “We fight for a cause, a good cause, but we fight shrouded in secrecy. Humans would not abide our kind… at least, not all. We have a wee bunch of devoted donors; namel
y family members, fighting on our side, willing to bequeath us their blood in order for us to succeed.”
“Succeed? Succeed in what?” I wondered aloud.
Quinn smiled at me. “We are blessed with eternal life, but we cannot spend that eternity hidden in the shadows like exiled lepers.” He raised his head, full of honour. “We are still entitled to live a life, albeit an extended one. We are still gifted tradesmen, labourers, doctors. We have skills we can offer this world, if only it can learn to accept us as we are.”
“But not all are like you.” My mind wandered back to my maker.
“Aye, ye speak the truth, young sir. ‘Tis why we need as many to fight the darkness as possible. We must grow stronger, we must prove our worth to a world that once knew us; a world that will know us again for all the good we will do.” The broad man rose from his chair. “But this great accomplishment will take time, patience and discipline, which is why ye get the choice. Join our cause, or die the night.”
I would have been a fool to refuse. This man before me would obviously have endured the same hardships as I; fought the same internal battles, experienced the same losses. And yet, unlike Elisabet and George, this man before me stood tall, assured, with a clear goal and purpose.
If he could show true strength and courage, and overpower that which tried to eat away at him, then so could I.
“Consider me your ally. I will fight for thy cause.”
I stood, proud and confident with the realisation that no longer did that voice in my head try to stop me. My path is chosen.
“Then come with me, for there is someone thou needs to meet.”
Leaving the chamber first, Quinn led me down more dirty tunnels, further into the belly of the Scottish hills. I began to hear voices of others around us, chatting, planning, laughing; and my spirits were lifted.
What art thou called?” Quinn broke the silence.
“Lucas Drake.”
Quinn stood before an open door, beckoning me inside.
Walking in, I saw a man seated before me, a council of vampires surrounding him. But he commanded the room.
He stood, taller than your average man, and pushed his shoulder-length black hair from out of his broad face. He nodded his approval at Quinn.
“Lucas Drake,” Quinn began, “meet our leader, Gerrick Dalton.”
The end…
… of the beginning
To find out if Lucas kept his word, follow his story in The Faction series, starting with Book 1, Invoking the Witch, complete box set now available on amazon in Digital and paperback format:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01FZ1VC8M
About the author
Lindsey lives in England in a little place known as Wolverhampton with her darling Bedlington Terrier, Huxley.
Whilst she does love to read and write, she is still financially challenged because she likes to buy expensive things that she likely doesn’t need, with money that she definitely doesn’t have! And so, to make ends meet she is employed as a Prison Officer, as well as a freelance Cover Designer.
But when she is not indulging in a spot of retail therapy, she can usually be found glued to some form of computer, playing one ‘shoot ‘em up’ game or another! She also likes painting, photography and shopping… oh yes, that was mentioned already, right?!
She’s not a complete hermit though, she also loves to spend time with her family and friends doing any number of socially acceptable (most of the time) things.
She is a huge fan of paranormal, thrillers and erotic fiction. And if all three are combined, she is in heaven. Especially when it comes to Alpha males!!!
Keep up to date with new releases and giveaways by visiting:
http://www.facebook.com/LindseyJayneWriter
or follow her on Twitter:
http://twitter.com/LindseyJ_Author
Other books by Lindsey Jayne
The Faction Series
Invoking the Witch – Book 1
Conquering the Witch – Book
Revoking the Witch – Book 3
Anthologies
Love Sucks (CHBB) - Anthology
Lucas - A Faction Series Prequel Book 1 Page 7
