The Vampire's Prisoner (Tales of Vampires Book 2)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Copyright
Title
Prologue
1. Kat
2. Ansel
3. Kat
4. Ansel
5. Kat
6. Ruth
7. Ansel
8. Edmund
9. Kat
10. Edmund
11. Kat
12. Ansel
13. Ruth
14. Kat
15. Ansel
16. Kat
17. Kat
18. Ruth
19. Ansel
20. Edmund
21. Kat
22. Edmund
23. Ansel
24. Kat
25. Ansel
26. Kat
27. Ansel
28. Kat
Epilogue
Mailing List
Contents
Copyright
Title
Prologue
1. Kat
2. Ansel
3. Kat
4. Ansel
5. Kat
6. Ruth
7. Ansel
8. Edmund
9. Kat
10. Edmund
11. Kat
12. Ansel
13. Ruth
14. Kat
15. Ansel
16. Kat
17. Kat
18. Ruth
19. Ansel
20. Edmund
21. Kat
22. Edmund
23. Ansel
24. Kat
25. Ansel
26. Kat
27. Ansel
28. Kat
Epilogue
Mailing List
Copyright © 2017 by Zara Novak
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
The Vampire’s Prisoner
By
Zara Novak
Prologue
Ansel
“But how did you escape?!” Vesper cried in terror as he stared up into the eyes of the vampire.
“I warned you.” Ansel said in a low voice. “Cross me and you will live to regret it.”
Lightning flashed through the hallway of the castle as Ansel plunged the silver stake into the chest of the vampire. The creature burst into a well of flame, and a moment later nothing was left.
Ansel turned from the ash pile, and closed his eyes as he listened to the storm surge around him. Light flashed, illuminating the muscled contours of his naked body as he stood still in the darkness.
He had finally sought his revenge, and he had earned his freedom. He looked down at the score marks on his wrists and ankles, where the metal had burned against his skin for the last three months.
A cry floated from the end of the corridor, and he jolted his head up in response. He had destroyed every last member of his treacherous family, and he knew that the castle should be empty.
“Help!” The voice whispered, struggling to make it’s self overheard in the storm.
There was someone still here. He wasn’t alone.
Ansel’s eyes flushed with black and his teeth became pointed. He raised his fists and clenched them, anticipating that his fight wasn’t done.
He reached the end of the corridor, walked around the stone doorway and into a small stone cell. A tall yellow candle flickered on the wall beside him. The light whispered across the dim cell to reveal the source of the sound.
The woman was bound with chains, much the same as Ansel had been, but on the floor around her, there was a circle of salt. She was dark skinned, with luminous azure eyes. Unlike Ansel, she had been allowed the dignity of clothing. She wore a long red gypsy dress which almost looked medieval in it’s appearance. Her hair was black, frizzy and unkempt. Ansel’s eyes narrowed to the small golden pendant on her chest. The woman was a witch.
“Help me…” The witch said with a dying voice. “I haven’t much time left.”
Ansel approached steadily, unsure if this was one last trick of Vesper and his sick coven of vampires. He stopped halfway across the sparse stone room, three steps outside the salt circle surrounding the witch.
Wind, rain and light continued to blast through a small barred window set into the stone wall of the cell. It had been a long time since Ansel had seen the outside world. He stood for a second and inhaled fresh air, something he would never take for granted again.
“Who are you?” He asked.
“My name is Azu.” The woman said in a choking whisper. “Who are you?”
“My name is Ansel. Ansel Draco. I was a member of this coven, but they took me prisoner. Tonight I escaped. Tonight they died.”
Pain seemed to ebb from the face of the witch, and she sat up slightly against the wall behind her. Her curious eyes burned into Ansel’s, and he felt as if the witch were looking right through him.
Her eyes glazed, her mouth dropped open and then she spoke. “It’s you. I know you.”
Ansel raised an eyebrow. “Look, I can free you, but I know enough about witches to know that you’re powerful. Can I trust you?”
“No.” Azu said while staring into the distance. “You cannot, and I would not. But there is one that you can trust.”
Ansel turned his head, confused. “…right. I’m breaking out of here, there are things I need to do.” He looked the witch up and down, wondering one last time whether he should free her or not.
“You seek revenge.” The witch said in a whisper. “You want to destroy the Red Circle.”
Ansel froze, and noticed that everything around him had become still. The storm outside has slowed to nothing. The candle flame on the wall beside him hung still in the air. He walked forward and crouched just outside the ring of salt.
“Tell me what you know of the Red Circle.” He said in a low voice.
The witch chuckled darkly. “They rule the world of vampires. Everyone answers to them. They are the elite, they are the ones who control…”
“Control what?” Ansel said with urgency.
“Rules, laws, populations… everything.”
“They’re the reason I was locked up here, aren’t they?” Ansel said.
Azu nodded. “They deemed you a mistake. You are unruly, uncultured. You should never have been a vampire. They ordered your coven to destroy you, but they didn’t. They kept you as a prisoner first.”
“How do I find them?” Ansel said. “How do I track them down?”
Azu chuckled again. “You are but one child. They are many.”
“Where?!” Ansel cried.
“The Red Keep. A place between worlds. There are few entrances on this earth, but they are hidden.”
“Just give me a name.” Ansel said. “Which vampire deemed my existence a mistake?!”
“They are an army.” Azu continued, not seeming to pay much attention to Ansel. “This land is divided into territories. Every territory has a Warden - an advanced vampire who controls the Red Circle in that area. It is the Warden of this area who signed your death sentence. His name is Cairo Inai.”
Cairo Inai.
Ansel had heard that name on the lips of his coven members before.
“Where is he? How do I find him? You said the Red Circle convene in the Red Keep. Where is that?”
“Everywhere and nowhere.” Azu said. “The Keep is a world of their own. A powerful ma
nifestation conjured by witches like myself. It exists between worlds. To find it and to find the ones you seek… you would need to find a gateway.”
“Tell me where the gateway is.” Ansel demanded.
Azu’s eyes flared with madness and she erupted into an inane cackle. “You think they’d trust me with such information? Oh my poor child. They would never tell me something so precious. I do know of one however… one who could help you.”
“Tell me and I’ll set you free.” Ansel pleaded.
“No deal.” Azu responded. “I am a dead woman anyway, but… I will give you your information Ansel Draco.”
Azu fell back onto the ground and held a finger to the ceiling. Ansel ran over to her and crouched down beside her, just outside the salt circle. The witch’s eyes were all black now, and she spoke in a slow and low whisper.
“There is a bar called the Black Font, in a town just east of here. A town called Dead Rest.”
“Dead Rest?” Ansel said. “I know it, it’s not far from here…”
Azu nodded. “In the Black Font you will find a man named Hurst. He is the one you need.”
“And this Hurst,” Ansel said, “He can tell me how to find this gateway to the Red Keep?”
“No.” Azu shook her head. “But he can help you find my sister, a witch named Rubago. Find her, and she may help you.”
A chill of wind passed through the room. Thunder rumbled through the castle, followed by a flash of light from outside. Ansel looked around and saw that the world had resumed it’s movement.
“And one last thing Ansel Draco.”
Ansel glanced down at the face of the dying witch. Her eyes were fully black now, and her voice had crawled to a whisper.
“Watch for the woman in the white dress. She will be your savior.”
1. Kat
The street was quiet and dark. Everywhere Kat looked, windows and doorways were boarded up. Everything here had been forgotten a long time ago. She was beginning to doubt she had the right place, when she walked past a solitary black door with a sign over it.
She stopped and looked up at the wide slab of painted black brick over the doorway. Into the flat stone the words ‘Black Font’ were carved in thick and jagged letters.
Kat read the words out loud to herself and glanced down at the picture on her phone.
“Black Font…”
The phrase felt weird in her mouth. The words felt heavy on her tongue. As she spoke them it felt as if they hit the floor like lead bullets.
A pang of excitement stirred inside of her, mixed with a pang of dread. When she had received the assignment from her tutor to write about an unusual aspect of her town’s history, she had never anticipated it would lead her on the trail of vampires.
She could scarcely remember how she’d gotten onto the topic, but the more she read, the more enthralled she had become. She’d spent every night last week, reading long into the night, prying into forgotten corners of the internet, reading things that sparked dark wonder across the facet of her mind.
Most of the time, she could spot the fakers right away. People would write and concoct the most ridiculous scenarios, trying to pass fiction off for fact.
There was one forum she had come across however, a technically ancient looking place that appeared to be a remnant of the late 90s. The site was bare, basic, plain, but to her it had felt real, and that was what mattered.
When she started looking deeper she realized the site was some sort of elaborate role playing forum. It appeared that people posted there, were pretending to be vampires who were looking for blood. At first glance she was amused, but as she read on, she discovered the community of actors were rather gifted writers. She read through hundreds and hundreds of pages, soaking up every word, cursing every red ‘X’ that signified a picture long forgotten.
The last post on the forum had been nearly fifteen years ago, but the thing that had really peaked her interest was the solitary thread written about her hometown, Dead Rest:
Anywhere to drink in Dead Rest, MT?
-aigler044
There had been one solitary response to the topic, and it had read:
Black Font, Harrow Street.
-Shine_x
When Kat saw that solitary thread, her heart had started thumping in her chest. Vampires? Here in Dead Rest of all places? The more she read into the lore, the more she hoped she could find something tangible. Now there was a chance to investigate something for herself, and here she was stood in front of that very thing.
Kat looked up and down the long deserted street and shivered. The sky had recently grown dark, and only a faint bruise of ink blue was left hanging on the horizon. She swallowed at something in her throat and placed a hand on the featureless black door in front of her.
She found it strange that apart from the blank door, and the near-blank slab of stone at it’s top, there was nothing else to distinguish this place. There were no signs, no doormen, no windows. If this was the haunt of some elaborate vampire enthusiasts, they had gone to great lengths to keep this place well hidden.
The door creaked as Kat walked through, and it slammed shut with a dusty rattle. She was stood at the top of a dark and narrow staircase. A red light came from somewhere down below, casting an eerie light up the stairwell.
The walls on either side of her were black, divided halfway up by a painted handrail that led down into the darkness.
Below the handrails the walls, were a void of pitch, above them there was an explosion of vintage collage wallpaper. In the distance Kat could hear the faint sound of metal music, blaring into some unknown void.
It was still quiet enough up here, to hear her breath shaking. She was stood still enough, to feel her heart thumping.
You need to stop being ridiculous. She told herself. This is clearly just some enthusiast’s club. It’s all going to be okay.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim red darkness and she placed a hand on the black rail beside her. She took a closer look at the collage print above the handrail, and realized that it wasn’t wallpaper at all. All around her from waist height to the ceiling, the walls were covered in newspaper clippings that appeared to have been brushed on with thick swaths of glue.
She had assumed at first it was some clever pattern, but as she took a closer look it became apparent that it was real. Every clipping was an individual story, yet every one seemed to share a common theme. Bold headlines blared across the wall, beneath a sea of dried glue:
‘Angela Thomas, 19, Missing.’
‘Search for honor student continues.’
‘Have you seen Rory? Call Police Now.’
Each headline was accompanied by a picture of a fresh faced teen or young adult. Most of the stories were about missing girls. Kat glanced over the clippings and felt a chill pass through her stomach. She didn’t know what the implication of the news clippings were, but one thing was apparent. Whoever was behind this place had a serious penchant for the macabre.
Kat took a tight hold of the handrail and followed the stairs all the way down. To her dismay, she found the clippings stretched from the top of the staircase, all the way to the bottom. She turned and looked back up at the staircase, and estimated there must have been thousands of clippings covering the wall. The sheer number was enough to bother her; but it was also the fact that the clippings appeared to become newer as she descended the staircase.
Was this an elaborate prop? Or was it a living time line to something much more gruesome? She turned from the stairs and tried to push the thought to the back of her mind.
Before her there were a set of black double doors - flat and featureless, just like the door at the front. Above the doors was a red light bulb dangling on a solitary white cable. The sound of the metal music was louder now. Kat took another breath and walked through the double doors.
The bar was dark, small and dirty looking. As she stepped through the doors she found herself in the middle of a short and wide room. The bar was directly in
front, and was one of the only sources of light within the room. Tables and chairs were scattered scantly around the edge.
She looked around at the walls, and saw the tidal wave of news clippings had spilled past the confines of the staircase and deep into this room. The clippings stopped at a point halfway across the room on her left.
Kat looked at the narrow space of pure black that remained unmarred and felt another shiver pass through her. She straightened up and took another breath. For all appearances, it seemed as if she was the only one in the bar. She took a couple of confident strides towards the beacon of light in front, and traced her eyes over the curious bottles of glass that lined the shelves behind the long counter.
The bottles were tall and appeared to be made of finely patterned crystal. What the contents were, she could not say. There were perhaps a hundred bottles of varying size and shapes across the four shelves behind the bar, and they all appeared to be filled with a dark liquid that was thick and red.
Kat placed her hand on the bar top and cleared her throat. She glanced down at her watch and saw that it was nearly 8pm. She cursed herself silently for wasting so much time, she was supposed to be meeting her sister in the next 30 minutes, and the thrill of this pointless hunt had already taken up too much of her time.
She cleared her throat again in attempt to get someone’s attention. Apart from the distant blare of music, there was no sign that anyone else was in the bar. She supposed someone had to be here, as the door wouldn’t have been left unlocked, but now that she thought about it, she couldn’t even remember if the door had a lock on it.
She caught a brief glimpse of her reflection on a sliver of mirror between shelves of dark bottles. She was dressed for a night on the town with her sister, and she almost felt ridiculous stood in a dive bar like this, looking the way she did.
Her mousy blonde hair was usually long and straight, but she had pinned it up in a bow of flowing curls for the occasion. She was wearing a short black cocktail dress that wrapped around the curves of her body tightly. On top of this she wore a short black jacket, tall flesh colored heels and in her hand she clutched a small black purse tightly.