by Foxx, Nia K.
The Vampire
&
the Reporter
Nia K. Foxx
After Dark Press, LLC
Warning
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The Vampire & the Reporter
Nia K. Foxx
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
After Dark Press, LLC www.afterdarkpress.us
Copyright ©2005, ©2006, ©2012 by Nia K. Foxx
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Printed in the Unites States of America
Dedication
Thanks to those who encouraged me to step out on faith
Prologue
Of all the hokey things Kyra Littleton had ever participated in, and as a reporter she’d been involved in her fair share of crazy situations, this one had to take the cake. Here she was on a red eye flight to Europe, but was she heading somewhere romantic like France or Italy? Hell, she’d even take Amsterdam. No, she was bound for Eastern Europe, or more precisely, Transylvania. Why? Because her superiors thought it would be a great idea for her to do a Halloween feature on the history of vampires. And where better to get first-hand knowledge than the mythological motherland of all the infamous fanged creatures?
She would stay in a fully functioning castle with several other invited guests who she supposed eagerly awaited a view of the famed home of Vilhelm Dracul. According to local legend, Vilhelm, not his cousin Vlad the Impaler, was in fact the man behind the Dracula mythos.
Vilhelm Dracul had lived over five hundred years ago in the historic castle with his family and several servants, all of whom mysteriously vanished one night. For years after the disappearance the castle remained vacant and the memory of the Dracul family faded into obscurity; until almost a century later when random murders began to ravage the nearby village. Suspicious that the killers were hiding in the abandoned relic, the local constable, along with several angry villagers, reopened the long forgotten ruins. Despite its outward appearance, it was reported that the castle’s interior remained in pristine condition as if it were still maintained by its former staff of servants. However, a thorough investigation of the castle failed to reveal anyone in residence.
Unsatisfied with his findings, the constable and a small band of men began a nightly vigil to determine if their murderers had found a secret entrance into the fortress. Each night a group would go out, and each night they would return shy a man or two. Frightened, the town’s people took matters into their own hands by torching the castle in a mid-afternoon celebration. For nearly two centuries the ruins lay as a reminder of the atrocities visited on the small community.
In 1781, construction began over the ashes of the old castle, much to the surprise of the locals who watched in silent awe as an exact replica of the former structure was erected. Although generations had passed since the murders and subsequent destruction, many people in the now thriving town felt a sense of unease at having the gruesome historical reminder reconstructed to loom over their homes.
The years to come proved history didn’t always repeat itself; the castle changed hands to various descendants of the Dracul family, eventually employing many people from the town, once again, to handle the day-to-day maintenance required for its upkeep. While its present owner was rumored to split his time between homes in both Europe and the Mediterranean, over the last two years he’d spent an unprecedented amount of it in Transylvania while he completed a project aimed to spark tourism to the forgotten community.
“Do you know how many people would like an all-expenses paid trip to somewhere exotic?” her editor had asked when Kyra voiced her objections to the assignment.
“If you want to send me somewhere exotic, how about Morocco or Turkey? I’m sure I can find all types of wonderful stories there. Why me anyway? I’m sure anyone else can do this, would probably even want the assignment. Why now, when I’ve met the man who could quite possibly be the one? For God’s sake, I don’t even write tourism columns,” she ranted, not pausing to take a break until she ran out of steam.
“Number one, you’re a damned good reporter. Two, you’re not working on anything right now that can’t take a back burner. Besides, the new boss doesn’t want the traditional tourist piece; he wants something fresh and new from a novice traveler. Three, the new owner, Mr. Dracul requested you personally.”
“Why would he want me?”
She’d shrugged. “I guess he’s a fan of your work. The bottom line is I need you on that flight at the end of the week.”
***
“Like I had much of a choice,” Kyra muttered to herself as she squeezed her way into the plane’s narrow aisle en-route to the bathroom. She sent up a silent thank you to the powers-that-be at finding the pantry sized rom vacant. Not only was she on her way across the ocean to a city whose name was synonymous with undead bloodsuckers and cult-like murders, but she’d also had a fight with William, her current boyfriend, over leaving town just before his first pre-season game. They were on the last leg of their journey, and cabin fever was in full effect from the lengthy flight with a space-hording seatmate. First class just didn’t carry the same meaning when your neighbor ignored the fact it would be two people sharing the not so personal space of the double leather seats. Her dark caramel reflection in the mirror looked as tired as she felt. Tight curly tendrils had escaped her single braid and looked as if she’d slept on it for days. Her only hope was the new boss would be kind enough to wait until his guests had a good night’s rest before requiring them to be social.
Her coffee-colored, almond shaped gaze stared back at her in the mirror and did as she performed a slow assessment of her face. Not packing her makeup in her carry-on was a mistake. A little color to her plump lips, perhaps a bit of eyeliner, several swipes from her brush and she could pass for human again. But she had none of that with her and was truly a lost cause.
Kyra took extra time in the bathroom to give herself a little alone time, no doubt the guy next to her had found a reason to spill his way into her seat in her absence. It was a battle she didn’t relish taking on, again. Kyra sagged against the locked door wanting the flight to be over; better still wanting to be back in Chicago. For a few seconds her mind drifted and she found herself wondering what William was doing. The thought was quickly banished by renewed irritation; why should she even care since he hadn’t bothered to see her off or even return her calls. Typical, his superstar attitude had definitely begun to consume their relationship and she was starting to feel more like a personal assistant than a girlfriend. When she got back to Chicago, she would have to reevaluate their relationship. Kyra sighed heavily. A week wouldn’t be too long, in fact it would pass in a heartbeat if she loosened up and allowed herself to have a bit of fun.
Chapter One
Ivan bowed as he
entered the room where the vampire he’d faithfully served for over five hundred years stood.
“Everything is going as planned, my Lord.”
Good. Have all the other guests arrived?
“Yes, we await only her now.”
Dumitri nodded his acknowledgement, turning back to look out the picture window to the darkening sky above. The rains would start soon. He would ensure it. His guests expected to visit an authentic vampiric castle, the home of Vilheim Dracul and he would make sure they received the entire gothic package. In actuality, he couldn’t care less for the humans who even now traipsed about his ancestral home, fingering his paintings, and turning over every candelabra as if they would discover some cheap knockoffs rigged with wires. To him the people were a necessary evil, a means to an end.
What he really wanted was her… Kyra Littleton. And in a matter of a few short hours he would have her with him where she belonged.
She was one of the Worthy, a small group of humans who were descendants of the first vampires. It was said these human/vampire hybrids were capable of breeding with both races. If a vampire mated with one of the Worthy they would have an almost guaranteed chance of reproduction. More importantly they could conceive multiple times with a Worthy partner and produce a true line of vampiric children and not just one’s sired from the bite. Children born to vampires were stronger than a turned human and maintained an absolute loyalty to their families. But the Worthy rejected their lineage centuries ago, choosing to breed among humans only to dilute their beastly ancestry. Many believed they were extinct, their vampire heritage being completely cleansed away. It was said only a true vampiric life mate could detect the special pheromone present in the males or females of the Worthy destined for them, and it had been countless centuries since a Worthy and vampire joining.
If not for a chance encounter Dumitri would have never thought such a pairing even possible for him. But Kyra made it all possible. He carefully devised his plan after sensing her for the first time many months ago. He’d known immediately she was the one who would share the rest of his immortal existence. Her scent had wafted to him as he exited the limousine to inspect his newest acquisition; a United States based newspaper headquartered in Chicago with worldwide distribution and acclaim. Until that moment, he’d never thought any of the Worthy lived, let alone one actually existing for him. None had been seen since his grandparents’ time. Like most vamps, he’d been content with living a life of decadence, satisfying himself with multiple human conquests to temporarily assuage his baser needs. Acquisitions had become his true passion; with the help of a few closest to him he’d grown his holdings to amass a veritable empire. Dumitri thought he would eventually choose a life mate from amongst the vampire nation, someone with whom he could tolerate an eternity and possibly produce an offspring. But the instance he’d scented Kyra his life changed.
His frantic gaze had searched the various humans milling about in the early evening. New York may be considered the city that never slept but Chicago’s hustle and bustle was in full effect at what most considered quitting time. The foot traffic in and out of the building seemed evenly matched. Most totted umbrellas in case the ominous clouds hanging over the city decided to release the rain swelling inside. The combination of the downtown skyscrapers and obsidian clouds allowed for him to travel in relative ease. He wouldn’t release his hold over nature until he’d concluded his business. He caught a glimpse of her dark frame as she entered the downtown building in front of her shorter companion.
“Kyra, can you slow down? Not everyone is gifted with long legs,” the woman chasing her had complained.
Kyra. He’d repeated the name, knowing it would be one of many times he would say it. She would be his sotie, his life mate, of that he was certain.
* * *
They’d definitely gone all out; she’d give them that much, Kyra silently acknowledged as her things were transported from the sidewalk into the horse drawn carriage. It had been a short forty-five minute ride from the airport to the quaint town of Moraga. Once there, she’d barely had a chance to sightsee before the darkening sky rumbled with thunder. Ominous clouds drifted in swiftly. Perfect!
She stepped under the awning of what appeared to be a general store. According to her itinerary, she was to wait there for her coach. She hadn’t expected it would literally be a horse drawn carriage coming for her. The driver wore a period black cloak, complete with wide brimmed hat, which he tipped before helping her into the private interior.
The inside of the coach was done in a gaudy crushed velvet material that seemed to envelope her in warmth. Despite its garish interior, she was thankful for the dry enclosure. Outside the rain pelted the carriage in a steady stream. Periodic flashes of lightning and thunder accompanied the relentless onslaught, yet Kyra felt completely secure in the safety of the cocoon. She only hoped the driver fared well under the slightly enclosed shelter that probably didn’t afford much insulation from the elements.
The ride up to the castle took longer than she’d originally expected. From the town, she could see two towers reaching toward the sky and assumed that they were probably a good twenty minutes away via the horse drawn contraption. Almost an hour later, her head lolled on the soft headrest as they pulled up the long drive to the entrance.
“Mistress, ve are here.”
Kyra came to with a start, embarrassed she’d finally succumbed to sleep since she’d barely been unable to do so on her journey over.
“I’m sorry.” Stepping out onto the gravel road, she gasped, struck with the complete magnificence of the castle. She stared up at the large stone walls that seemed to go on for several stories. A raindrop fell in the center of her forehead as she craned her neck to take in the gray exterior.
“My God.”
“Ve’d betta get inside,” the driver urged from behind her.
He didn’t need to tell her twice. Moisture added to her already skewed hair wouldn’t be a good combination. The inside proved to be just as impressive. High ceilings, a grand staircase, granite flooring, all added to its out of the dark ages appearance. Another man dressed in Renaissance style pants and ruffled top appeared from a side door as if waiting for their arrival. His sudden manifestation startled her dulled senses. She was tired and in dire need of more sleep.
“I hope your flight was a pleasant one, mistress.”
“It was fine.” No need sharing with him how close she’d come to shoving her seatmate into the aisle because his bobbing head refused to stay in his designated space, or the man’s loud snoring which was unable to be blocked out by her complimentary headset.
“I am Ivan.” He bowed slightly. His English, although accented, didn’t compare with the driver’s thicker brogue. “Please feel free to call on me for any of your needs. All the guests are getting acquainted in the parlor should you wish to join them.”
“If I could be shown to my room, I would like to freshen up first.”
“Certainly, this way,” he said before picking up her bags.
Kyra followed him up the long winding staircase and down a hall illuminated by torch-like sconces casting eerie shadows against the walls.
“Here you are.” He swung open a heavy wooden door which silently gave way to an oversized room.
Kyra felt a chill course through her as she entered the dim chamber.
“I will make sure a fire is lit before you retire. This castle can be quite drafty at night. When you are ready to come down, simply pull this cord.” He indicated a tassel that seemed to drop down from the ceiling near the door. “I will come to get you.”
“I’m sure I can find my way,” Kyra protested, although she didn’t look forward to traversing the dim halls on her own. She understood the owner was going for and authentic feel but would it really kill him to add proper lighting?
“No,” he said abruptly. “It is best if I come for you until you’ve become acquainted with the castle. There are many places to get lost here.”
She didn’t doubt it. A person could get lost in the bedroom they put her in if they weren’t careful.
* * *
Twenty minutes later she felt half way human again, dressed in dark cotton slacks and a peach colored short-sleeved, button-up shirt that dipped into a modest V at the neck. Chalking her hair up to a loss until she could get out all of the proper accessories, she brushed her kinky tresses into a ponytail, twisting and wrapping the dangling shoulder length fluff around itself until she fashioned a neat bun. It was far from a glamorous look but with her being jet lagged, it was as good as it would get. It seemed only seconds after she pulled the corded rope that Ivan was tapping gently on her door. Hell, was this man always lurking about?
