by Fawn Lowery
Refreshed, he returned his attentions to the old book lying open on the table before him. The pages were yellowed with age, the writing faded and at times, illegible. Dust hung above the book in an ominous cloud, threatening to distort his vision and choke his throat again. His brows drew together in puzzlement as he considered his reaction to the text. He coughed, stirring the dust. He fanned one hand reviving the misty cloud and making it resume its swirling motion before his eyes.
What the hell? A face materialized in the dust, a vision that whirled and tumbled, grew faint, then came soaring toward him, making him pull back. He blinked his eyes and tried to make out the likeness.
Drucella? The image was unfamiliar—but his thoughts were consumed with visions of Drucella’s face dancing before his eyes, laughing at him one second, sneering the next. He struggled to gain control of his senses, determined to learn the secret of the old book and why he was being tormented by something as common as a little dust. He squinted at the visions appearing and disappearing before his eyes.
“Maybe we should go.”
Perhaps it was Miriam’s words that caused the reaction. It was minuscule, but noticeable nonetheless. He paused and considered what had just taken place. The moment Miriam suggested they leave—the menacing dust retreated.
There’s a secret within this book. He turned his eyes away from the text, testing his suspicion. He looked about the library, studied the darkness for a moment, waiting for the dust to rise up and swirl before his eyes, obstructing his vision as it had previously. When the cloud didn’t move, he knew his suspicions were right. Someone or something had been sent to prevent him from learning what the book had to reveal.
He pondered his revelation. He clutched the amulet beneath his shirt and silently beseeched it for help. He felt a breeze on his neck, lifting the long hair at his nape. It blew against his cheek and whipped across his eyes, causing him to close his eyelids. He heard Miriam gasp.
He opened his eyes. The room was clear of dust. He lowered his gaze to the pages of the book. The writing was clearly visible.
Chapter Nine
He had thought perhaps that Drucella was something other than the witch he had once believed she was, and as he searched through the pages of the old book, he felt more and more certain that his suspicion was correct. He read about witches and warlocks, demons and creatures that stole souls and never returned them. He read about fairies and gnomes and their mystical cohorts. When he came upon the heading of vampires, he paused his reading and stared at the grotesque picture on the page. The creature of the night had a distorted face, long bared fangs that threatened from a gaping mouth and red glowing eyes resembling burning embers. He looked away, disgusted.
The touch of Miriam’s hand on his shoulder brought his thinking round. He wasn’t like the rendition of the vampire in the book. He was neither distorted in face or body. He sighed. Turning the page, he read briefly about magic and wizards, then he came upon something that gave him pause.
Gideons? He had never heard of such creatures. Gideons were mythological beings that had the ability to live forever and take on many forms. It was almost impossible to kill one of the creatures—given their immense range of powers.
Almost impossible? Is Drucella a Gideon? He thought about his brother casting the witch into the fire and seeing her remains turn to ashes. Fire was supposed to destroy witches. His brows furrowed. If Drucella was a Gideon, that would explain how she had survived the flames and come back to retrieve the amulet of her coven. He grasped the gem and held it tightly.
Are my powers strong enough to defend the amulet from its previous owner? He scanned the pages of the book, looking for some means of verifying Drucella’s identity. The passages told of Gideons coming into power and the forming of a colony centuries earlier. He learned that the race was immune to destruction—except for one threat.
He turned the page, but found the parchment tattered too badly to make out the writing. He grimaced. He understood that Drucella had indeed wanted to prevent him from reading the book so that he couldn’t find out about her real identity or learn how to destroy her. He raked one hand through his hair.
But I didn’t find out how to destroy her—only that there is one threat to Gideons. He closed the book and lifted it from the table. As he walked across the room to replace it in the bookcase, he was assailed with the feeling that another presence had joined he and Miriam. He whirled around, his intense gaze encompassing the interior of the room with lightning haste.
A spark of light glimmered in the corner of the room, then drew nearer, growing larger as it approached. He braced his legs, threw the old book on the floor and clenched his fists, ready to do battle.
The shard spun, flashing amber, then white before halting. It hovered, wavered.
Miriam gasped and raced across the room to hide behind Duella.
“Show yourself!”
His voice was commanding, leaving no room for rebuke. “Show yourself!”
The mass shifted, swirled. A shape began to form.
Duella stared at the image being manifested before his eyes. He could see a body emerging, a woman with long hair. She was naked. He blinked his eyes, recognition coming to mind.
“Duella. Come. Let’s lie together and enjoy each other’s bodies.”
He felt uneasy as the voice rasped into the wide-open space. He clearly recognized the woman he had met and taken nourishment from the first night of his existence in the present era. He knew now that she had faked her fainting spell only to get him in her domain where she later transformed into Drucella and attacked him.
He gathered his courage. Prepared to fight to the death, he snarled angrily and leapt toward the figure within the lit vision. He landed mere inches from the apparition and glimpsed the surprise in the piercing blue eyes when he thrust a fist into its protective aura.
An angry wail came from the light as Duella’s powerful thrust upset the balance of prism. The mass shrank back, quivered—the female form contained within its boundary, groaned and thrashed about.
Duella lashed out, clutching the form by the chest. He clenched his mighty hand, gnashing his teeth as the apparition fought to get free. It drew back, threatened him with long, pointed teeth, raked his forearms with sharp talons. He felt his skin pierced as the claws dug in, then suffered a crushing blow from a foot as it landed in his mid-section. He bellowed and gnashed his teeth, growing angrier as the creature fought back.
“You cannot beat me. You do not have the power.” The voice sounded remarkably calm, a hint of sarcasm clung to the words.
Duella paused with his fist clenched tightly on the creature’s chest. He gave the form a mighty shake, demonstrating his hate.
The form hovered—the face stared at Duella through the misty aura, then vanished as quickly as it had come into the room. Duella grasped thin air, his fist still clenched in an agonizing grip as he realized that Drucella had disappeared right before his eyes—again. “I’ve got to find a way to destroy that fucking witch!”
Miriam was before him, her hands clutching his face. “Who is she? What does she want?”
He looked into her eyes. He had to be honest with her. She had given him blood when his body was suffering from the effects of the old book.
“She’s a witch from my past. She wants…” He paused. Did he dare tell Miriam about the amulet?
“She wants to destroy you?”
“Yes. And she’ll stop at nothing.”
Miriam covered her mouth with one hand, horrified. “What can we do? There must be something we can do?” She jerked her head toward the old book Duella had dropped to the floor when the witch arrived. “What did the old book tell you?”
He noted the fact Miriam offered to help him. He smiled in spite of the circumstances. He drew her into his arms. “I read about creatures called Gideons. I think Drucella may be one.” He stopped short of revealing that Drucella had been a witch in the year 1185, thinking perhaps that Miriam migh
t not understand time travel. He grimaced, once again feeling uncertain whether he should have come to this present time. He had encountered nothing but problems since arriving. He pushed Miriam to arm’s length and gazed down at her.
Well, perhaps not everything he encountered could be classified as a problem. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers, then drew her against his chest.
“What are we going to do, Duella? We can’t just ignore the witch. She’ll come back and try to kill you again. I know she will.” She tightened her arms around his waist. “We have just found each other—I don’t want to lose you.”
Her words tugged at his senses. Since meeting her, he had been in a quandary over his growing feelings for her, repressing them as best he could, but now that she had spoken her true feelings about him…
“Come. I have something to show you.” He took her hand and led her to the windowsill where they had entered the building. Urging her to transform, he seeped beneath the pane and then reappeared as a bat, taking to the air. She followed close behind, soaring on the calm night breeze at his side. They crossed the city and flew into the suburbs.
Duella arrived at the mansion he would soon be living in. He landed in a tree, then leapt to the ground and transformed. With Miriam by his side, he walked to the front door of the mansion and pressed one hand against the solid wood structure, ordering it to open.
The mansion unfolded before their eyes, a lavishly decorated home that bore all the finery of the previous owner. Duella took Miriam’s hand and stepped across the threshold.
She looked around in wonder, retuning her gaze to his face. Her lower jaw hung open in awe. “What is this place?”
“My new home. Would you like to live here with me?”
She bit her bottom lip, then smiled. Tears appeared in her eyes. “Oh, yes. I would like that very much.” She turned to have another look. “Should I ask about the previous owner? Or how you came to have the house?”
He shook his head. “The less you know, the better. Know only that I have made arrangements for the future.”
She nodded her head, satisfied with his explanation.
The stench of death clung to the home office where Fred Glasco spent his final moments. Duella strode into the room, crossed the carpeted floor to the wide desk and gazed upon the array of papers scattered across its top. He gathered the sheets, stacked them neatly in a pile, then tucked them into a manila folder. Soon, he would put everything in order, but tonight he would entertain Miriam.
She swept into the room, the long dark dress she wore billowing around her calves. She smiled, appearing happy for the first time since they left the library and their harrowing ordeal with the witch. “We’re going to live here forever, Duella? We’re going to have servants to wait on us and cooks to prepare our meals?” She sucked in a quick breath and covered her face with both hands. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget how horrible it is to be a vampire. We don’t eat food—real food anyway.” She lowered her hands and looked at him, a faint smile on her lips. “But I suppose we could if we wanted to.”
“You could.” He returned her smile. Remorse gathered in his gut. He realized then that she suffered the same sad feelings as he about their vampire state, the undead existence they were forced to endure. Alas. There was little either of them could do to change things. The curse would remain with them forever.
She shrugged her shoulders. “When will you occupy the house?” She stared at him with wide eyes.
He glanced toward the desk, reminded that the former owner had been taken away and now lay in a funeral home a short distance from there, prepared for burial in the human manner. The servants were presently gathered in the chapel, grieving.
And perhaps worrying about their jobs. “Tonight.”
She bit her bottom lip.
He sensed her concern. “I’ll send for your coffin.”
She looked relieved, then lowered her eyes. “I know we’ve been sleeping together, but—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Miriam. If you feel at ease having the crypt near you, then you shall have it.” He smiled.
“All vampires should have their casket nearby, Duella.” Her brows drew together. “Have you no coffin of your own?”
He sighed and took a seat on the corner of the desk. Looking about the great room, with its book lined walls and sleek leather furniture, he felt he could get used to his new surroundings with little effort. “I have no coffin, my sweet. And now that we are in this new place, I intend to sleep in a real bed in a real bedroom with curtains at the window and a bolt on the door.” He laughed out loud.
She smiled broadly. “Do you suppose we could sleep without being near the earth—the very thing the undead is supposed to retreat to for security?” She crossed the floor and stood very close to him. “Are there some human things that we could do—instead of always hunting for victims in the night, then scurrying into the darkness to hide?” She combed her fingers through her hair. The dark mass hung lank against her shoulders. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Shadows played about her mouth, reminiscent of her lost beauty.
He took hold of her upper shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “We are going to make some changes, Miriam. We are going to establish ourselves in the community and live among the living.”
She drew in a quick breath. “But how can we—when we must hunt mortals for their blood? How can we live among them—they will discover us and drive stakes through our helpless bodies while we slumber.” She shook her head. “Oh, Duella. We cannot.”
He drew her into his embrace. “Miriam, we can. And we shall.”
Chapter Ten
The servants neither returned to the house that night or the following. Duella prepared written instructions for each one, assuring them that they were still employed at the mansion and making a brief introduction of himself as their new employer. On the fourth night, the butler and the cook appeared, standing stiff and formal at the foot of the stairs as he descended from the upper floor. He had chosen a bedroom for himself and Miriam, the master suite with a grand view overlooking the dense woods that lay behind the house.
Ambrose, the butler bowed at the waist as Duella came down the stairs.
“We are grateful that you intend to keep us on, Mr. Sutherland.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Hilda, the cook and Ambrose’s wife, stared at him with a rather unorthodox expression on her face. As Duella neared the landing of the stairs, she stepped behind her husband, as though seeking safety from him.
“The gardening staff and the two maids employed by Mr. Glasco will be returning tomorrow, sir—unless they are needed right away, that is.”
“No. Tomorrow will be sufficient, Ambrose. Thank you.”
“Sir, if I might inquire, you precisely instructed my wife and I to continue our daily chores as though our former employer were still in the house.”
Duella felt his uncertainty.
“You also stated in your written letter, that you are somewhat of a night person and would be carrying on most of your business during the evening hours. Does this mean, sir, that the services of my wife and I are to be full time, day and night?”
“On occasion, Ambrose.”
A noise from the upper floor drew the servant’s eyes. Duella turned as Miriam appeared at the top of the staircase. She paused and looked down on the small assembly.
An audible gasp came from Hilda’s throat. She raised one hand and covered her mouth.
Miriam stood at the top of the stairs, her long black dress concealing all but her feet.
Duella held out one hand, beckoning to Miriam. “Should my lady require anything further from either of you, she will certainly let you know.”
The servants bowed hastily and retreated to the back of the house.
“I suppose I scared the shit out of them, Duella.” Miriam descended the staircase, her long black dress billowing around her thin body. She headed toward the door, intending to go in s
earch of food. She pushed her hair over one shoulder and glanced at him. “After I’ve sucked the blood out of some unsuspecting slob, I’m going shopping.”
Duella chuckled and watched her walk past. The old dress she wore needed discarded. It was tattered and torn and spotted with efforts of her feeding frenzies. He waited until she had left the mansion before turning his own thoughts to nourishment. He had taken to feeding at one of the private clubs in the old section of town, a men’s club that consisted mainly of local businessmen. He found the whole concept of listening to their conversations as they drank brandy and puffed on cigars to be quite an informative event. So far he had remained in the corner of the room, hovering near the ceiling, so that he could eavesdrop without them knowing of his presence. Once he gained enough knowledge of their businesses so he could intelligently converse with the group, he would make himself known and join their ranks.
New Orleans had been severely damaged by Hurricane Katrina, a devastating storm that struck the Gulf Coast two years earlier and parts of the city had yet to recover. He had been privy to hear all about the unsavory government officials who lagged behind in their efforts to rebuild the flagging city. Several businesses had left already and there was much talk of others following suit. He had no such plans for any of the Glasco holdings, though he did hear the name mentioned on occasion as the businessmen discussed their options for renewal of their own holdings. As he eavesdropped on their conversations, he mentally noted the advantage Glasco Enterprises had over the other businesses in the area. Perhaps the fact that most intrigued him was that none of the Glasco holdings had been affected by the hurricane. Glasco neither owned rental property in the city, or coastal homes, two areas hit hardest by the storm.
Aside from the effects of the storm, the group had discussed the local economy, the soaring tax increase the city fathers had levied against the citizens for rebuilding efforts, and the failing performance of the New Orleans Saints, the city’s football team. He strode to the door of the mansion, but before he could exit, Miriam burst through the opening.
