The Vampire's Curse, A Paranormal Romance (Undead in Brown County #2)

by S. J. Wright

  Looking at him there, standing bare, strong, and beautiful before me, I again felt that peculiar compulsion to let him take anything he wanted. As if I belonged to him and it was all in his right to demand. When he lowered himself over me, every ounce of power he possessed and every gorgeous detail of his body sent me fully into that frame of mind. I forgot about everyone else. I forgot about the meadow. I dismissed the warnings of my mother and Victoria.

  His movements inside me and his gentle murmurs against my ear sent me spiraling up into a world I had never known. When I came crashing back down to earth, he was feasting on my blood. All I could do was watch. He had drawn one of my thighs up over his shoulder and clamped his mouth down upon the femoral artery there, so close to where he had spilled his seed only moments before.

  “Alex…” I whispered hoarsely, barely finding the energy to say his name, “No.”

  He did not even look over at me. His mouth and throat were working just fine, but apparently, he had gone deaf. I managed to lift my right arm, but I had no strength left in the muscles. All I managed to do was to move it over a few inches on the bed.

  The door was suddenly thrown open and crashed against the wall. Finally, he looked up. That’s when I saw the blood on him. Then I saw Nelly standing in the doorway, her blue eyes fierce and determined.

  “You get away from her this instant, Alexander.”

  With bright red blood dripping from his mouth onto my ravaged thigh, he stared at her in astonishment. I looked down at myself and whimpered like a child. There was so much blood. It was still gushing out of me, over the sheet in an ever-widening circle.

  “Out!” Nelly shouted at him.

  “But she needs me to close it! She’ll die!”

  Nelly turned to him with a growl, “Get Michael to do it. Now.”

  I closed my eyes. A world of looming gray shadows was calling me, urging me to let go—to come into the darkness. I felt the presence of many lost souls, moaning in confusion and loss. I did not want to go there. There had to be another place. Somewhere bright and warm with laughter. Maybe my father would be there.

  Later, Michael’s voice moved over me. It was a guide, a compass pointing the way to somewhere I felt I belonged, “You’ve lost a lot of blood, but I’ve sealed the wounds. I am here. I won’t let it happen again.”

  Everything was still gray around me, but there was warmth blooming from somewhere inside. Gentle hands holding me, Michael’s deep calming voice urging me onward.

  “Come back, love. You’re all right now. Come back.”

  Nelly’s voice interjected quietly, “Alex won’t wait much longer.”

  The gentle voice beside me morphed into the snarl of a dangerous animal, “If he doesn’t do as he’s told, I’m bringing Isaiah into this. Alex may be stronger than I am, but let him try to attack the oldest vampire on earth. Then we’ll see exactly how much his power is worth.”

  Who was Isaiah? My eyelids still felt heavy, but I forced them open. There was daylight coming through the windows. It was not sunny outside. There were masses of high gray clouds filtering the sun. Turning my head, I looked wonderingly upon the face of my prisoner.

  He looked exhausted. There was a gray cast to his skin that I had never seen before. He must have felt me move, because he turned his gaze on me expectantly, the blue eyes coming alive with hope. Then he slid his thick arms under my back and pressed me gently against him, gathering me in an embrace.

  “Never again.” I felt the rumble of his voice through his chest, “I nearly lost you.”

  “What are you thinking, Michael?” Nelly asked, suspicion peppering her tone.

  He did not answer her. Drawing back from me a little, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine. His skin was a little cool but firm. Then something strange began to happen.

  In my head, I felt a pull. As if there was some force inside me reaching out for Michael and making everything it could from the contact. It was a whirling golden rope, tossed out to find its mate. In the place where our foreheads were touching, I felt a slow heat begin to burn. It was not uncomfortable at all. It was rather soothing.

  Then he spoke to me. Without words.

  Are you feeling this?

  I wanted to move away.

  Don’t. Try to talk to me.

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to concentrate on the vibrations he was sending through me. However, the dream I had about him that morning kept replaying itself in my head. That was the last thing I wanted him to see. Jerking back from him, I struggled to push his arms away.

  “Let me go, Michael.” He moved back, and I drew the patchwork quilt closer around me. As if that aged cotton could hold back a creature of immense power. I looked over at Nelly, who kept watching Michael suspiciously.

  “How are you here? It’s daytime.” I demanded.

  A half smirk emerged on his face, and he waved a hand, “I’m a magician of the highest order. I never reveal my secrets.”

  Nelly snorted. Ignoring them both, I lifted up the covers and stared down at my thigh where Alex had bitten me. There was no indication that I had suffered any injury at all. Stunned, I looked back over at Michael.

  “You fixed this?” I squeaked, “How?”

  “Vampire venom,” Nelly answered, handing me a cup of tea on a saucer, “It’s pretty amazing stuff.”

  I gratefully accepted the tea, “Thanks, Nelly.”

  Michael patted my leg and stood as if preparing to leave. He staggered for a moment, grabbing the back of the chair he had been sitting in. I saw him close his eyes and press his long fingers against his temple.

  “Sit back down,” I said, “You can’t go outside like that. Nelly, did Victoria get back with the blood yet?”

  “No. She called a while ago and said she got held up.”

  “Damn it. We have to help him somehow.” I cursed my weakened state, and eyed Michael warily as he lowered himself back into the armchair by my bed. Thinking quickly, I turned to Nelly, “Would you mind getting my cell phone? I think it’s in the truck. Or maybe the barn.”

  Her head tilted slightly as she looked at me and then back at Michael. She gathered up some sheets from the floor by my closet, and I clearly saw that they were soaked with blood. It made my head spin, thinking about how close I had come to death.

  When I heard Nelly descend the stairs, I reached out and grasped one of Michael’s cold hands, “You need blood. If I could give you some of mine, I would.”

  He shook his head, “No. I could not do that.”

  “Then I give you permission to leave the containment field.”

  I saw his beautiful eyes begin to shine with hope, and the gray tone to his skin faded minutely. However, the light in his eyes diminished when my strength left me. My hand was limp between the two of his. I wanted to keep my eyes open. I wanted to give him more to hope for. I longed desperately to see that emotion flood his features.

  “Go and find what you need. Then come back.” I requested.

  He sighed and pressed my fingers to his cool lips, “I can’t believe you’re letting me walk away. How do you know I’ll come back?”

  I considered the question seriously for a few seconds. I knew by the way his gaze caressed me. I knew because of the warmth in his words and the way he had held me. Michael would not leave me as long as I needed him. Taking a shallow breath, I smiled at him kindly and then closed my eyes.

  Chapter 9 - Michael

  Freedom. It is such a little word. When men say the word, they know nothing about the true meaning. Perhaps if a man has been locked up for 65 years, he may comprehend the enormity of the concept. When I staggered down that quiet country road and met no invisible shield to hold me in, it was a rebirth.

  For a fraction of a second, I recalled the sight of Sarah lying in that bed. Her helplessness, her tangled hair, the blood rushing forth. I tried not to remember that other girl, the one in New York, bleeding out on the pavement as Isaiah’s guards descended on me. If they h
ad not come, she would be alive, I assured myself. But perhaps not. I was not known for my mercy at that time. I also knew that resurrection of my past misdeeds was always destined to cause misery.

  Instead of berating myself for past wrongs, I focused on my most pressing need.

  Just when I spotted an elderly woman making her way towards her mailbox near the end of the road, a dark sedan came speeding up towards me. It came to a screeching halt next to me on the cold pavement. Victoria.

  “Michael, get in.” She had the window rolled down, and I could see the cooler in the backseat. There would be bags of cooled blood inside. I cast one yearning glance towards the warm-blooded human staring at us suspiciously from her dirt driveway. One human death in a town of this size would draw a great deal of unwanted attention.

  Resigned, I climbed into the passenger seat beside Victoria. Before she took off, she reached behind her, shoved the lid of the cooler aside, and threw three full bags of blood into my lap. Without a word, I ripped the cap from the first one and sucked it down. It rolled down my throat like sweet syrup, the coppery taste infusing me with power that I felt in every cell of my body.

  “You must have found Meekah.” I mumbled.

  She nodded, her eyes fixed on the road with precise concentration. “She’s waiting for us in Chicago.”

  Meekah was one of my special projects from long ago. During one particularly hot summer I spent in Paris, I heard a rumor from another vampire about a young girl who could foresee the future. It was July of 1746. I’d been carousing drunkenly with a group of ambassadors from England for several months and was growing weary of them all, when I discovered, quite by accident, that there was a vampire posing a representative of Spain in Paris. One of the English fellows related to me an unremarkable story about how this pretender kept odd hours. When I pressed him for further information, he relayed to me that the Spanish ambassador was rumored to be a creature of the night and had drained two kitchen maids of their blood.

  I was not pleased. It was ridiculously sloppy for a vampire to have exposed himself in such a way. With our speed and our ability to compel those around us to forget what they have seen, it has always been relatively easy to keep our true nature a carefully guarded secret from humankind. My place in Parisian society had been a role that I created with great care. I enjoyed my freedom, the opulence in which I lived day to day, and the knowledge that every drop of blood I took from a human would remain my own secret.

  It was easy for me to find the culprit. Being a cautious creature, I did not immediately burst in upon him in his bed to demand explanations. For a week, I followed him from place to place. I watched him dine with royalty and talk earnestly with secretaries and clergymen. From dark corners, I witnessed the money that changed hands as he bribed his way into the highest society parties. The French would never trust a Spaniard, but they would accept his money in exchange for invitations to bright, glittering balls and fifteen-course dinner parties where only the very best food was served.

  One night I watched him go into the back room of a dingy tavern by the docks, and I saw him recklessly murder a barmaid. He had bent her backwards over a rough wooden table cluttered with half-eaten plates of food. While he drained her, flies buzzed lazily throughout the room. Their incessant buzzing was enough to drive anyone mad.

  The filth of the place combined with his thoughtless actions sickened me. Ending his pathetic existence was foremost in my mind. When he looked up from his latest victim to find me standing there in that disgusting place, he seemed genuinely surprised. Perhaps he had thought he was immune from the dark justice that other vampires often dealt out to their peers. Perhaps he believed that he was the only undead creature roaming the Paris streets for blood.

  “What do you want?” He growled.

  I attacked him without answering. It was rather messy. After I ripped off one of his legs, he began to beg. That sort of ploy did not typically have much effect on me. I was heartless when it came to disciplining my own kind.

  When the tavern owner rushed in after hearing the ambassador’s screams, I compelled him to turn around and act as if he’d seen nothing amiss. The putrid creature before me whimpered and moaned in his pain.

  “Please spare me.”

  “Not possible.”

  “I have money!” He stammered.

  “I am far richer.”

  His face tensed again in agony as I began pulling off one arm at the shoulder. Then he whispered so quietly that only a creature with superior hearing could understand.

  “There is a girl I know who sees visions of the future.”

  I paused in my work, eyeing him with disbelief. I had been a vampire for more than a hundred years, and I had heard of only three individuals in the world who could accurately predict the future. Considering my growing lack of affection for Paris, the heat, the endless drunken nights in gloomy strange rooms, I was ripe for a new adventure.

  “Where?” I demanded.

  “I will show you. Please.”

  Although I still held an intense hatred for the creature and doubted his word, I agreed to mend him if he would lead me to the girl. It required a good deal of my venom, but I managed to heal him enough to be sure that he would have the ability to live up to his end of the bargain. I quickly disposed of the dead bar maid and took him to my townhouse on Saint Germain. He insisted on accompanying me to where the seer lived, explaining that I would never be able to find it on my own. Naturally, I did not trust him. I am no fool.

  When I took the poker from the fireplace and shoved it through his chest, right near his heart, he finally complied with my request.

  “She’s a seamstress for a theater in London. Drury Lane.” He gasped.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Meekah.” A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth, “She’s African.”

  I tore his head off.

  Several weeks later, I met her for the first time. She barely spoke English at all, but appeared to be very intelligent. She told me that she had seen me coming. She had known where we would meet. She also knew that I was going to turn her into a vampire. Without resistance, she accepted the attention and gifts that I lavished on her.

  We spent the fall in a remote village near Bath. She had two servants, a little white dog, and garden. The cottage was not very large, but it was adequate for our needs. All I wanted was for her to be comfortable and to begin to trust me completely. Only then would I begin requesting information.

  Neither one of us ever ventured to question the nature of our relationship. To me, she was a very valuable asset, an ally who could bring great insight into what lay ahead. When her English began to improve, she indicated that she wished to go to the American Colonies. She had heard great things about the land and people there.

  She became a vampire the night we boarded our ship. By the time we landed in Boston, the crew had been reduced by fifteen men. She learned how to take blood from a human quickly and quietly, how to dispose of the body without making a sound, and how to take just a sip or two and compel the human to forget with just a flicker in her coffee-colored eyes.

  The first time she experienced a vision after having been changed, she nearly went mad. Everything was enhanced. The things she saw were more clear than ever before. The sounds were deafening. For four days, I implored her to tell me what she’d seen. With a stained linen shift billowing about her like the image of some horrid ghoul, she screamed at me.

  She said that she hated me. She hated herself.

  To keep the ship’s crew quiet about it, I’d had to compel the majority of them. I locked Meekah up for two days in a traveling trunk decorated with real silver emblems of my personal coat of arms. At the end of the second day, I unlocked the trunk.

  The shabbily dressed crewman I had brought with me down into the hold was for her. She stared at me silently for several minutes before she bit into him. I had imagined that she would completely drain the man, but she took only a few gulps
of his blood.

  Then she wiped her mouth, turned to me, and said in a steady tone, “I no trust you. But will tell you what I see. You give what I want.”

  “Anything you want. Yes.” I assured her, relieved that she seemed calm again.

  “House in Boston. Big garden.”

  “Yes. The largest one we can find.”

  She turned back to the man who had given his blood, grasped his chin gently with her dark calloused fingers and stared into his eyes solemnly, “Forget what has happened here. You go do work again. You forget Meekah drink blood.”

  When he left, she looked at me with a measure of hatred, “You do bad things. I not like that. Meekah good woman.”

  “I will not force you to do anything.”

  She sat on a crate full of oranges, “I see new woman. She good to you. Victoria. You change her into blood drinker.” Pausing, she held out the remnants of her soiled shift and shook her head, “Big trouble soon. New woman help you.”

  I leaned forward, “What trouble?”

  “I no say. You wait.”

  Fighting the urge to curse and throw things, I nodded shortly. There was little doubt in my head that what she saw would come to pass. She had been accurate about other things.

  So when we got off the ship in Boston, I found her a house with an expansive flowering garden. There were statues and fountains positioned perfectly between the shrubs and carefully tended flowerbeds. I offered the owner three times what the property was worth. His wife cried and pleaded with him to deny me. In the end, Meekah came forward and grasped the woman’s hands. She murmured gentle words in her native language while I compelled the husband to sell everything to me for the price I originally offered him.

  The very next day, I saw Victoria coming out of a fabric shop. I wasn’t positive it was really her in the beginning. She was a slender woman, garbed in threadbare clothing that hung loosely around her petite frame. She had come out of the shop with tears shimmering in her eyes. I remember touching her sleeve and asking if she needed a carriage.