Ward of the Vampire: Complete Serial

by Kallysten

  How crazy was that, really? He’d done a lot worse to me than ask a few uncomfortable questions, and still I was the one feeling guilty when he had showed no sign of remorse.

  Crazy or not, I did promise myself I’d try not to argue with Morgan again.

  ‘Try’ being, of course, the operative word.

  *

  The next morning was pretty much a twin to the previous one, so I won’t bore you with details of how I take my morning coffee.

  I don’t mind having a routine. I actually like routine and knowing what’s going to happen in my day. Not that I don’t enjoy surprises every now and then, but what can I say, I am a strong believer in schedules and appointment books.

  Or at least I was until monotony became a synonym for my daily life.

  I’d finished the book at bedtime, so after my breakfast, which was devoid of any more revelations from Stephen, I returned to the library.

  The office door was closed, and I didn’t hesitate before pushing it open. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me that Morgan might be in there. Maybe because I’d waited for his return for so long the previous evening. I froze on the threshold when I realized that he was seated at his desk, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and typing on the computer keyboard with the other. His eyes flicked up toward me, but he continued speaking in a language I didn’t know. It sounded like Japanese, maybe. Hadn’t he said he was doing business with Japan?

  I didn’t freeze because I was surprised to see him there, however. I froze because of his face: because of the three, claw-like red slashes that ran from the corner of his left eye to his chin.

  Who had done that to him?

  Who would dare do that to a vampire?

  There was only one answer I could think of: another vampire.

  Suddenly, I didn’t know whether to tiptoe to the library or just leave. While I hesitated, he finished his call and set the phone down on his desk.

  “Did you want something?” he asked, now typing with both hands.

  “No, I was just…”

  When he looked up, I showed him the book I held and gestured toward the library.

  “Oh. Yes, of course. Go ahead.”

  I was dying to ask who had hurt him, but would he answer if I did? I started forward, but stopped when he said, “By the way, I got this back for you.”

  He pulled a phone and charger from a drawer. No, not just a phone, I realized as I took it. My phone. The one I had told him was at my desk in Miss Delilah’s office building. I didn’t ask how he’d retrieved it. I didn’t really care if he’d been let in or if he’d sneaked in. But the thought of him in that office reminded me of something I’d meant to do for a while.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Now I can finally…”

  He watched me with a curious expression as I typed a two-word message and pressed send. Rather than answering his unvoiced question about what I meant, I showed him the screen.

  The message, sent to Miss Delilah, said simply ‘I quit.’ Morgan chuckled softly.

  “Have you been meaning to do that for a while?”

  “Pretty much since my first day here,” I confirmed.

  I turned off the phone and pocketed it. I didn’t need to wait for a reply from Miss Delilah. I didn’t care what she thought about me quitting.

  “So what will you do when you get out of here?” Morgan asked, sitting back in his chair and watching me with a small tilt of his head that was not, emphasis on the not, adorable.

  Or at least, not much.

  “You mean if I ever get out of here,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No. Not if. When.”

  The strength and conviction in his words was nice. I wished I could have been as certain as he was. Because, all right, I wasn’t in such a hurry to leave anymore, but I did want to see the outside of the mansion again someday.

  “I don’t know,” I said with a little shrug. “The first thing I’ll do is take a nice long walk in the park. But after that… Maybe I’ll go visit my parents. Or even move back there. I don’t really know. How does one go back to a normal life after learning vampires are real?”

  He leaned back in his chair, and I became very aware of the chair facing him, just a couple of feet from me. I took one step toward it, and when Morgan didn’t react, another step. I sat down right on the edge; I didn’t want to get too comfortable.

  “I can’t help you there,” Morgan said. “When I found out, my life took a turn far from normal. I’m not even sure I know what normal means anymore.”

  I had a hard time believing that. When my parents had been there, he’d played the role to perfection. Still, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t argue with him, so I let that drop and asked instead, “Did you want it? Did you want to be a vampire?”

  I remembered every word Irene had said to me two days ago—and I remembered in particular how she’d hinted that she might make me a vampire. I couldn’t help but wonder if turning someone who didn’t want to be a vampire was really something she’d do. Morgan, however—I’m sure it won’t come as much as a surprise to you—did not actually answer.

  “I’m not sure anyone can truly want it,” he said, his voice and his eyes suddenly darker. “Because no one could understand what it’s like before they are a vampire, and by then the choice is made and there is no coming back.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  My protest didn’t bother him one bit. Of course not.

  “I know.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I got back to my feet. I didn’t know why I kept deluding myself about being able to reach him when he constantly slammed doors in my face.

  “You say I don’t know you, but how could I when you just evade every attempt I make to learn more about you?”

  He had the gall to sigh, like I was the one being difficult.

  “Angelina. Why would you need to know me? You just said when you get out of here you’ll leave town.”

  “Well, I could have let myself be convinced to stay,” I snapped at him.

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t say that. You’ve just been here too long. You’re accepting it because denial only weakens your spirit, and you’re not the kind of woman who lets anything or anyone weaken her, are you?”

  Annoyance surged through me so fast that it took me a couple of seconds to realize why I was annoyed. It wasn’t what he’d said; the last part had some truth to it, even if it was all more of the same ‘you don’t see clearly enough to know what you feel’ thinking he kept throwing at me. No, what annoyed me was the way he said it, like he knew all that for a fact—like he knew me, inside and out.

  “I’m not allowed to think I know you,” I said, bristling, “but you think you know everything about me, is that it?”

  He didn’t even have the grace to look abashed.

  “I’ve known a lot of people. I like to think I understand what makes them tick.”

  I couldn’t suppress a snort.

  “You like to think that, but you know, that’s not really true. If it was, you wouldn’t need to take the easier path when you find a bump in the road.”

  Cheap shot on my part. So much for having decided I’d play nice. I guess I still wasn’t over his deception.

  His wince when I said the word ‘easier’ was even better than what I’d hoped for.

  “I thought you said we’d stop talking about that,” he muttered.

  With a look of affected surprise, I pressed a hand to my heart.

  “Did I? Oh, I’m so sorry. I lied. Sue me.”

  And with that, I gave him my hardest smile and marched into the library. It was nice, for once, to have the last word, but I didn’t delude myself into thinking I’d gained any ground. I hadn’t convinced him of anything, let alone the truth of my feelings. He was much too stubborn to give in so easily. But I wasn’t giving up. Spending a few minutes choosing a book then lying down on the Victorian sofa wasn’t me giving up: it was a way to prepare for the ne
xt battle.

  It turned out much differently from what I expected.

  *

  I read all morning, stopping only for a quick lunch before returning to the library. I could have read elsewhere, I suppose, but I felt less lonely with Morgan nearby, even if we weren’t actually speaking. I was so engrossed in what I was reading that I barely realized what he meant when he stood in the doorway and said he was going out for a while. By the time I tore my eyes off the page to look up at him, he’d left. For a second, I almost felt guilty at having been rude, but it wasn’t like he needed my acknowledgment, let alone my permission, before going out.

  I went back to the book and its sassy heroine; she, too, had been thrust into a world she hadn’t known existed, but at least one of the two men caring for her returned her feelings. Lucky her.

  Once again, I lost myself in the story to the point that, when a voice rose from the doorway, I didn’t immediately react but instead finished the paragraph I was reading. When that voice repeated the same command in a much colder tone, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. And I knew, without looking up, who was there.

  “Get your shoes off my chair, Angelina,” Irene had said.

  Twice.

  With my stomach flipping upside down and my heart caught between stopping entirely and beating much too fast, I did as she demanded. I sat up so fast that I came very close to slipping right off the chair and joining on the floor the book I’d dropped in my fright.

  Clinging to the edge of the chair, I could do nothing but watch her walk into the room. My heart had decided that a gallop was the right pace at the moment, and running did seem like a wonderful idea. Too bad she was standing between me and the way out. And anyway, it wasn’t like I could outrun her. Or hide from her in a mansion she had to know much better than I did.

  Was I a coward for wanting to run? I don’t think I was. The last time I’d come across her, I’d been half an inch away from death at her hands. I still wore the marks from that encounter, like a necklace of fading bruises around my neck.

  The only reason I had survived our first encounter was that Morgan had been there. And all right, maybe she had threatened me because he was there in the first place, but he had pleaded for my safety until she released me.

  What would I do, what would become of me if she threatened me now that Morgan was gone?

  Had he said how long he’d be away? I couldn’t remember.

  Her feet, encased in knee-high leather boots with thick heels at least four inches high, did not make a sound as she crossed the room and approached slowly. She wore tight black jeans tucked into the boots and a light blue blouse that seemed to be silk. I don’t know why I noticed that it was silk. Maybe I was trying to distract myself from the ‘oh shit’ moment.

  She bent down to pick up the book and gave the cover a cursory look before holding it out to me.

  “You’re lucky,” she said. “If you’d manhandled one of my books this way, we’d have needed to have a serious discussion about the proper way to treat what’s mine.”

  My hand shook horribly when I took the book from her. I clutched it in front of me; not exactly a foolproof shield, but what else did I have? I hated that I was so damn scared of her, yet however hard I tried to calm down, I couldn’t, and it wasn’t just about what she’d done to me a couple days ago, either. She was small and she looked young, eighteen or nineteen maybe, but there was... a strength coming from her. I almost wanted to call it an aura.

  Miss Delilah radiated something like that, sometimes; usually when she was surrounded by people who, according to their demeanor, considered themselves her equal or even superior to her. I’d watched her turn on that strength, that little something that seemed to make her a little taller than anyone in the room, her voice a little louder than any other voice, even when she spoke quietly. I’d always thought it was some businesswoman trick, a confidence born from money and power. I knew better now. It was a vampire thing. It had to be, even if I’d never seen Morgan do it.

  “Lilah never mentioned you were such a scaredy cat,” Irene said with a roll of her eyes. “Get a grip, Angelina. You and I are going to share a cup of tea.”

  She looked around and shook her head. When she turned her gaze back to me, a shiver ran down my spine.

  “And Morgan redecorated in here too,” she muttered. “Oh well. The music room will do. Off you go, then. Go find the butler and tell him we’ll take tea, then join me.”

  I was already at the door before I realized I had moved at all. Had she used compulsion on me? Her voice always sounded the same, like she expected to be heard and obeyed, so I couldn’t really tell the difference, the way I could with Miss Delilah. Still, I didn’t stop to wonder if I was free in my actions or if she’d just compelled me. Either way, an excuse to get away from her was fine by me. I hurried out into the hallway. My heart pounded so loudly that it was all I could hear. My mouth was bone dry. I didn’t run, but it was a close thing. In just seconds, I was in the kitchen.

  Stephen, on the other hand, was not.

  That was the point when I realized that, yes, she had indeed compelled me, because the mere thought of not being able to find Stephen filled me with dread, and cold beads of sweat were already sliding down my back.

  I would find him, I told myself as forcefully as I could. There was no reason to panic, because I would find him, like I’d been told to do. My fear abated a little, just enough that I could start thinking again. Where could he be? Just about anywhere, really. For all I knew, he’d left the mansion with Morgan. Or maybe he was taking a nap in his suite—and I had no idea where that was. Or maybe he was doing whatever his job entailed other than cooking for me. Cleaning? Shopping? Watering the plants in the sun room?

  Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he wasn’t doing it in the kitchen, so the first order of business was to get out. Which I did. Knocking on every single door would have been a prodigious waste of time and effort, so instead I stood in the hallway and called out his name twice. When there was no answer, I walked a few steps down and did it again. I called his name through the entire floor, to no avail. That only meant he wasn’t on this floor, I told myself when the fear started to creep back in. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t find him at all.

  I went down to the second floor, and my voice sounded a lot shriller—a lot more scared—when I called his name again.

  Watching him appear at the bottom of the staircase, a duster in hand and a look of alarm on his face, flooded me with relief.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, already stepping up toward me. “Miss Angelina? You look—”

  What did I look like? Like I’d just seen a ghost? A monster from my worst nightmares? I’d never believed in ghosts and only started being scared of monsters after setting foot in the mansion. Or rather, one monster. The same one waiting for me and for her tea.

  “I… Irene,” I interrupted him. “She’s here. She wants tea. She wants you to serve us tea. In the music room. I don’t know where the music room is. And I don’t want to have tea with her but I can’t… the way she said it…”

  “She compelled you,” Stephen said, stroking my arm. “Don’t fight it. You know better than to try. It’ll be all right. Let’s go up, okay?”

  When I nodded, he curled his arm around my shoulders and guided me back upstairs. The gesture surprised me a little, but I welcomed it. I certainly could use some support right then. With his free hand, he pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed. I didn’t have to ask who was on the other end.

  “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, sir, but I think your presence is needed back at the mansion. A guest has come in to see Miss Angelina. I believe her name is Irene.”

  I wished I could have heard what Morgan replied. I glanced at Stephen when he pocketed the phone, and he gave me a reassuring smile.

  “He won’t be long.”

  Which was a good thing, but not particularly reassuring. If Irene decided to kill me, she wouldn’t need more than a co
uple seconds.

  I accompanied Stephen to the kitchen and watched him put a kettle on the stove, but as seconds passed, I became more and more uncomfortable. Unfortunately, I knew why.

  “I have to go,” I said, panting slightly. “I was supposed to tell you and then go to her.”

  Stephen nodded gravely. “All right. I’ll show you to the music room. Do you want me to stay there with you until Mr. Ward comes in?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” I said as we started down the hallway. “She asked for tea. You’ll have to go get it.”

  He didn’t reply. I really wished he’d found something to say to reassure me, but at this point the only thing that would help was Morgan’s arrival.

  The music room, as I found out, was located three doors down from Morgan’s bedroom. I walked in alone, taking in the decor that surrounded me in a rather transparent effort not to look at Irene.

  A thick rug with intricate designs covered a large part of the floor. Blue drapes were parted on either side of a wide window, but the heavy cloud cover outside didn’t allow much sunlight in. It didn’t matter, though; two sconces on each wall made up for that, filling the room with a warm glow that reverberated off the deep wood trim around the room, the polished furniture, and the dark-red upright piano set almost but not quite in the center of the room, with chairs and sofas arranged in a rough circle around it.

  As much as I tried not to set my eyes on Irene, it was hard to ignore her as she sat on the bench at the piano, her fingers gliding over the keys without pressing down so that the piano remained silent. Her eyes were closed as she pretended to play, and she didn’t look at me as she said, “Take a seat, Angelina, so we can chat properly.”

  I sat as far away from her as I could, which was on a loveseat upholstered in rich, dark-green velvet. It was all I could do not to grab the decorative pillow next to me and hold it to my chest; I doubt it’d have been much protection against her.