The Vampire's Doll (The Heiress and the Vampire Book 1)

by Jaclyn Dolamore

  “Dennis!” Velsa cried. “Stop it!”

  The man—Dennis—growled at Velsa, his eyes unfocused like he was drunk on Irik’s blood. He was some sort of super-powered blood-drinking monster. And— This is growing more strange by the moment. He had round ears. Like a human.

  Parsons took the attack spell from her pocket. “Who are you? An Earth man. Are you kidnapping the prisoner?”

  “That’s right.” He finally pulled his attention away from Irik and held out the knife. “I know you killed the first girl.”

  “We didn’t,” Parsons said. “She killed herself when we didn’t know how to change her back. If you don’t give me that girl, we’ll never be able to figure out how to complete the transformation.”

  Velsa put her fingers to her temple, and Parsons felt the buzz return to her mind. Velsa was inside her head, tampering with her mind.

  Forget. Forget you ever saw me.

  Parsons gasped trying to fight her off. Velsa—you traitor.

  She heard a ringing in her ears that grew louder and louder until it hurt, until Parsons was forced to clutch her head. Was she still even holding the attack spell? She could hardly feel her hands. At the same time, her mind was turning to mush. What just happened? She struggled to cling to the memory…

  Parsons was sprawled in the snow. Irik was beside her, clutching a deep gash on her neck.

  “What happened?” Parsons dragged herself up. The snow had soaked through her stockings and seeped into her leg stuffing. “Ugh.”

  “I guess the teleport went wrong,” Irik said. “They warned me about this with the teleportation stones. They’re easy to make, but sometimes there’s interference in the traveling plane or something like that…”

  Parsons stood up, feeling vaguely confused. She was holding the teleportation stone, she realized. She had never used one before. So maybe Irik was right.

  “This must be what a hangover feels like,” she said. She rubbed her aching head, trying to shake it off. “Are we in the right place?”

  “Yes. It’s this tree, right here.” Irik lifted a fold of her red outer robe to soak up some of the blood trickling from her neck.

  “You all right?” Parsons asked.

  “I’ll manage. I must have cut myself on that rock.” Irik was obviously trying to shake it off herself. They both had their pride.

  “Then let’s get it over with.”

  Irik started climbing but stopped halfway up the tree. “She’s gone.”

  “Are you sure this is the right tree?”

  “Yes,” Irik said. “I marked the trunk. She’s gone.”

  Chapter Five

  Deep down, Parsons was relieved the girl had escaped. She didn’t like the idea of experimenting on prisoners. But the incident nagged at her in strange ways. She had dreams about being in the snowy woods with Irik and riding on her back in leopard form. When she woke she thought, Did that happen? No—remember, the prisoner was nowhere to be found and you went home.

  She had theater tickets one afternoon for the new performance of Pygmalion in the city, and when Els was busy she decided to take Velsa, in a begrudging attempt to get to know the other Fanarlem girl better. It was pretty safe to take the auto straight to the theater for an afternoon matinee, but Parsons still didn’t like going alone. Velsa seemed so sweet and boring, but the whole time Parsons kept having the strange sense that there was more to her. But Parsons didn’t have time to interrogate Velsa. That ended up being the day that the newspapers announced the existence of the Fallen Lands to the general public, and it caused a near panic in the city.

  Finally Parsons asked Els about the strange memories that kept popping into her head. Els was a Miralem, so she knew about these things.

  “It sounds like a telepath messed with your mind,” Els said. “I can try to help you figure it out, although my mother would probably be better at it.”

  “You can try first,” Parsons said. The only thing more disconcerting than having someone mess with her mind was, quite possibly, having to talk to Els’ mother.

  “It’s awfully strange, though,” Els said. “I mean, who would mess with your mind?”

  “I’m sure it has something to do with that job Calban gave me.”

  “Of course it does,” Els muttered. “He’s nothing but trouble.”

  “He’s one of the most powerful men in the world, Els,” Parsons said, losing her patience. “If he decides to favor me like he favored my mother, I’d have it made.”

  Els grumbled. “Just—be still. I do sense something odd.”

  Once Els located the memory, it rushed back into Parsons’ mind as if it had never left, and she immediately knew Velsa was an enemy, maybe a Miralem spy. Just as bad—actually worse, in Parsons’ mind—it turned out she really a concubine, the legal possession of her supposed husband.

  I took a concubine to the theater.

  The other girl was swiftly punished, but she escaped within days. Parsons was privately relieved that she was gone.

  But Calban almost seemed upset at Parsons for turning her in. “It’s too bad,” he said. “I liked her.”

  “You liked her.”

  “Well, yes. Sweet young couple, her and her husband.”

  “She was a concubine. They weren’t a couple.”

  “I think it’s time you stopped blaming everything that goes wrong on being a Fanarlem.” Calban raised an eyebrow.

  She wanted to claw his smug brows right off his face. “You’re as bad as the rest of them,” she said, standing up. “I thought you were on my side.”

  “What’s wrong with you lately, my dear?” he asked, as she sat primly on the edge of a cushion. They were in one of the many beautifully decorated rooms in his house, with pink chairs, dark gold draperies, and boxy lanterns. A weathered old tapestry with a picture of a processions of dancers covered one wall. “You’re one of the only girls around who has grown up with the Fallen Lands in your blood and the English language in your ears. I thought that job would suit you.”

  “I’m beginning to suspect you invented an imaginary job to keep me busy,” she said. “No women work there at all, except me and the secretary. And the men don’t respect me.”

  “You have to demand respect. Like your mother did. Look for opportunities and seize them.”

  As if it was so easy. “What opportunities? Mother was different. You know it’s true. The fact that I was ever flesh and blood doesn’t matter at all. They see a Fanarlem. And girls like Velsa make it worse. People will start to wonder, what’s really the difference between me and her?”

  “Of course there’s a difference. I never forget that you are a flesh and blood girl.” He laced his hands, regarding her more seriously. “I wanted to give you a job that was easy, pleasant, and satisfying. Apparently that’s where I failed. You might not be a born engineer like your mother, but you have her spirit and you could do more for us.”

  People always said that. You have your mother’s spirit. Parsons was starting to realize even that wasn’t true. It was some nonsense they said, either because they so desperately wanted to believe Wodrana Belvray was still with them, or because they wanted to make her feel better.

  “I have another special job for you,” Calban said. “This job is all your own. You know the man you met in the woods?”

  “‘Met’? You mean the man who leaps between trees like a monkey and drinks blood?”

  “He’s from the Fallen Lands. You probably noticed his round ears. He is also a magical being, a type of undead they call a vampire.”

  “I thought they didn’t have any magic in the Fallen Lands.”

  “They have a little, actually. But it is so uncommon that most humans don’t believe in it. So much so that the vampire said when he became undead, he hid from his family and never told them what happened to him.”

  “You captured him?”

  “Of course. He aided the prisoner’s escape and attacked some of our guards, so he must be punished. But this isn’
t my first encounter with the man. We brought him here from America and held him for five years, studying him, until he gave us the slip and hid out in the northern woods, eluding capture. I’ll give you his file. It explains his condition.”

  “What do I do with him?”

  “We need someone to question him about where Velsa and the prisoner went. However, he can smell blood. Especially when he’s hungry, it makes him wild. We’ve been trying to break him by leaving him hungry, but once he catches a whiff of the blood inside his captor’s veins it’s like trying to interrogate an animal. You, on the other hand, have no blood.”

  “I see. So you want me to talk to him.”

  “Yes,” Calban said. “You might be the perfect solution. You’re an unassuming interrogator, but he is also pretty thoroughly unnerved by Fanarlem.”

  “Oh, terrific,” she muttered.

  “It’s an asset for you in this case. You still might have to hurt him to get him to talk.”

  “You want me to torture him?”

  “I want you to go about it however you can, but we will give you a wand enchanted with burning spells. It won’t damage him permanently. You’re ready for more responsibility, aren’t you?”

  Responsibility? He was calling torturing someone a responsibility?

  But Calban had probably done worse in the century he had served Lord Jherin. If she wanted to be a respected member of the Palace loyalists, this was the first step. If she thought of it that way, it was a great honor.

  “If it goes well,” he added, “this could lead to a better job for you. Maybe heading up an entire vampire study department someday.”

  “How many vampires are there?”

  “Just concern yourself with this one, for now. Here is the file.” He shuffled some books around on the table, uncovering a green folder containing a small stack of papers. “Read up and meet me at the prison tomorrow morning.”

  She had not actually agreed to the job, and yet it seemed that it was hers now. “I do appreciate you thinking of me.”

  “I always think of you, Parsons. I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes myself, but I look out for Wodrana’s daughter. But don’t tell your father about this either. If you work for me, you listen to Lord Jherin. Not your father. You understand?”

  His tone was light, but she did understand. He was testing her absolute loyalty. It was a good sign, when it came to future prospects. There was no need to test the loyalty of inconsequential people.

  She put the file in her desk drawer upstairs before going down to the basement to double-check that Papa wasn't home. Calban was right. Papa wouldn’t like this. It had nothing to do with engineering or city planning or the other passions he had shared with her mother. Parsons wasn’t the only one who wished she could fill the gap her mother had left behind. Her father was happiest when Parsons tinkered with music boxes or her automobile.

  Just thinking of it made her feel heavy. She flopped onto the bed and picked up the file with one hand while opening her pet rat’s cage with the other. Royale, a handsome black and white rat, scurried onto her back as she opened the file while laying on her stomach.

  Subject: Dennis Faraday

  Origin: United States of America

  Specialty: None (UNDEAD—”VAMPIRE”)

  Date of Arrival: July 12th 1910 (21/6th Cycle, 387)

  The vampire had been here for seven years? Parsons noticed how the file began with what seemed like a standard format, as if there were other files for other humans as well. But if they had brought other humans to Nalim Ima before, wouldn’t she know about it?

  Mr. Faraday is a very unusual case. While traveling through the mountain regions of the state of Pennsylvania, our scout sensed magic (see Dorbin reports 34) and tracked it down to this individual. Moving with surprising speed, the subject approached the scout and attempted to attack him. The scout was forced to use a magical attack to repel the subject.

  Although initially hostile, the subject soon calmed down and informed the scout that he was very hungry for blood. He has a need to drink the blood of mammals and preferably humanoids on a daily basis, but Mr. Faraday said he had been fasting from humanoid blood for a long time. The subject had been living in isolation and was concerned about the harm he might do to others. The scout allowed Mr. Faraday to drink some of his own blood, demonstrating how quickly his skin healed, and thus Mr. Faraday agreed to come back with him to the Wodrenarune’s palace.

  Properties of the Vampire Race

  After various interviews and tests we can conclude the following to be true about vampires:

  —Vampires begin life as living humans. They are converted into a vampiric state by being bitten by another vampire and then drinking the blood of the vampire who bit them.

  —Once turning into a vampire, they develop extra-keen senses and greatly enhanced speed and strength that allow them to hunt their prey easily. Mr. Faraday seemed distressed by his own abilities at times. He stated that vampires are “born to seduce and kill” but said that he resisted this urge and that was why he had chosen to live alone. At one point he said he had contemplated suicide.

  —Despite his great strength, he also possesses a curious weakness: sensitivity to sunlight. Within fifteen minutes of exposure to direct sunlight, his skin becomes red and blistered, causing him great pain. Due to this he was nocturnal in his homeland, his activities much hampered in the summer months. Once removed from the sun, he heals quickly from this and other injuries, approximately twice as fast as a Daramon.

  —Mr. Faraday stated that most vampires drink enough blood to kill their prey. Their victims, once bitten, enjoy the experience. In the case of humans of both genders they experience a drug-like euphoria. Blood donors who had contact with Mr. Faraday spoke of “vampire withdrawal” and a strange wish that he had been able to kill them, which seemed to fade after a week or so. It is unknown if the vampire’s skin or saliva have special properties, or if their teeth are venomous.

  —It also seems possible that he has a certain effect on victims even before they are bitten. Particularly when he is hungry, his guards reported feeling attraction to him and an inclination to do what he says, even men with no inclination toward other men. Telepaths have also found his mind difficult to penetrate compared to other humans. Although this tendency is not so strong that it can’t be resisted, everyone who works with vampires should be made aware to guard against it.

  —Mr. Faraday seems to need at least 15 ounces of blood a day to sustain him. If he is given less, he will become increasingly agitated, prone toward violence, and unable to articulate. The smell of fresh blood in the vicinity increases the effect. He referred to this as “his animal mind” and seemed very distressed by it, once his senses were restored. Although he is also able to eat other foods, he seems to get no physical satisfaction from them and was not especially compelled to eat.

  Parsons knew that last feeling. She felt a little sorry for the vampire; his lot didn’t sound very pleasant.

  The papers, despite occasional quotes from Mr. Faraday, made him sound less like a thinking person and more like an exotic plant or mineral that could be endlessly poked at. Now it was her job to poke at him, she supposed. It seemed a little unfair, but it must also be for the greater good or the Wodrenarune would not allow it.

  Chapter Six

  “Ah—thank you for waiting.” Calban was late the next morning, leaving her to sit in a depressing little office within the prison. “This way.” He was holding a cup of coffee, very all-in-a-day’s-work as he took her down into the basement, their feet thumping down steep, uneven stone stairs. They were soon beyond the reach of sunlight. Yellowish bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling made Parsons’ olive skin look sallow. At the bottom of the stairs was a guard post, with a locked cabinet of weapons and potions. Parsons heard someone groaning in the distance.

  “Jhordal.” Calban waved a hand in greeting to the guard. He always remembered everyone’s name, even one guard of many inside the pr
ison. “Miss Belvray is here.”

  The guard unlocked the cabinet and handed Parsons a wand made of carved wood. It was the size and shape of a small flute, with a row of tiny crystals mounted along its length. Then he stood there, waiting.

  “Now,” Calban said, “You’ve read the file, so you understand that Mr. Faraday can’t always control his violent tendencies. I want him to understand that we are in charge of his destiny and his impulses, and there is no point in trying to escape. At the same time, I want to work with him. So we’re trying to strike a balance. Use your discretion.”

  “You aren’t coming in with me?”

  “No, I won’t see him today. We have a history. I have a history with so many people.” He sighed. “I’d rather he see a fresh face.”

  “You really think I—” Parsons stopped herself. Nervous as she was, she couldn’t look weak now. “Never mind.”

  “Don’t be nervous,” Calban said. “You can handle this. Come see me at the conservatory afterward to report.”

  The guard led her to a hall. Another guard stood at one end of a row of heavy wooden doors. The first guard, looking dubious about her presence in the prison, unlocked a heavy wooden door with a small window set near the top, too high for Parsons to peer through. “In here,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Scream if you need help. Although I think he’s feeling pretty well exhausted by now. We haven’t given him blood in two days and his stamina has been tested.”

  “I will…”

  Parsons stepped inside the basement room, which was lit by a single bulb. She had expected bars to separate her from Mr. Faraday, but instead, he was chained to the wall. Of course, this made sense. Magical prisoners would have enchanted restraints. She knew how strong the vampire was, and it would be a waste to enchant metal bars when cuffing his wrists and ankles would do.

  Parsons had a lot of experience hiding her discomfort behind a blank mask, and she did so now.