The Vampire Heir
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Thank You
About the Author
Also by Juliana Haygert
The Vampire Heir
Rite of the Vampire Book 1
Juliana Haygert
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Juliana Haygert
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
First Edition March 2018
www.JulianaHaygert.com
Edited by H. Danielle Crabtree
Plot doctoring by Megan Linski
Cover design by Moonchildljilja at Fantasy Book Design
Any trademark, service marks, product names, or names featured are the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms is used.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Thank You
About the Author
Also by Juliana Haygert
1
Thea
I was here. I couldn’t believe it. I had made it.
Around me, the other ninety-nine people took over half the town square. While we waited for the train to come pick us up, they chatted and laughed and speculated how it would be, what we would see, who we would meet.
It was not every day Castle DuMoir opened its doors to the public. In fact, it only happened twice a year, and only one hundred lucky guests were invited randomly from the thousands, millions of requests they received.
And I was one of the lucky ones.
“Isn’t this exciting?” a girl beside me asked. A wide smile adorned her lips as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Her excitement was irritating, if not saddening. “I can’t believe I was chosen.”
“Exciting,” I said, though that couldn’t be further from what I was feeling. If I stopped to think about this, if I considered all that could happen, that would happen … I inhaled deeply, calming my racing heart, willing the shaking of my arms to stop.
“Oh.” She reached over and squeezed my arm. “I see the train coming.” She turned to me, her smile even wider than a few seconds ago, her brown eyes twinkling in the late afternoon sun.
The majestic, shiny black train slowed to a stop beside the small wooden platform that served as a station on the corner of the town’s square. The glass doors opened, and a tall, handsome man wearing a black suit and a burgundy tie stepped out under the wide, dark awning covering the platform. There was a silver cross brooch on his lapel—the symbol of Castle DuMoir.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his loud voice carrying over the crowd, shushing the guests. He grinned at us, which made his features even more handsome. “I’m Karl, your host for tonight’s adventure. I have one question for you. Are you ready for the best night of your lives?” The crowd cheered. “Then, please, come on in. Have your invitation handy as I’ll need to check it before you come onboard the DuMoir train.”
The guests hurried toward the train, pushing one another, trying to get in right away, as if the train would depart and leave them behind. Like a bouncer at a popular nightclub, Karl stood beside the door, making sure everyone who came through showed him their invitation.
The girl, still beside me, squealed as we approached the doors. “This is it. So exciting.”
She stopped in front of Karl and flashed her invitation. Karl nodded at her. “Please, come in, young lady.”
Then, I was in front of him. The man was taller up close, harder, more imposing. But his smile didn’t touch his blue eyes. I held his stare as I handed him my invitation, willing my hand not to shake. He plucked the beige paper from my hands and glanced at it. “Thea Harrington?”
I lifted my chin. “That’s me.”
He narrowed his eyes, but I refused to break under his gaze. This was just starting … I wouldn’t break down now.
The penny-sized brooch hidden in the inside pocket of my jacket trembled as he scrunched his nose and leaned away from me.
Karl tsked and returned the invitation to me, as if he was suddenly bored. “Welcome aboard, miss.” He gestured to the doors.
“Thank you,” I muttered, turning away from him.
A long, relieved breath escaped my lungs as I stepped inside the train.
The locomotive was even fancier on the inside. The darkened windows were large and curved upward, taking up most of the ceiling. Two columns of large, black leather armchairs stood on each side of the wide corridor, with touchscreen TVs and folding tables on their backs. Some chairs were turned back and a smooth wooden table stood between two rows.
From the magazines and articles I had read about the DuMoir visit, I knew there would also be a luxurious dining car, a movie theater car, a car with a pool, and even sleeping quarters.
I had started walking down the first car, when a hand grabbed my wrist. “Hey, sit here,” the girl from before said, tugging on my arm gently.
I held in a grimace. This was not the time to make friends. I looked around, but the seats were filling up fast, and what would be my excuse to her? She had already seen I was as alone as she was.
I sighed. “Sure.” I plopped down on the seat beside her.
She offered me her slender hand. “I’m Judy.”
“Thea.” I looked at her once more as I shook her hand firmly. She was probably my age, nineteen or maybe twenty, and she was pretty with auburn hair and tanned skin. I pulled my hand from hers and settled into my seat, looking straight ahead.
The girl, though, didn’t seem to get the hint. “So, how long have you been trying to visit DuMoir?”
I suppressed a groan. “Two years.”
“Oh, you’re lucky.”
I frowned. Was I? “They don’t al
low visitors younger than fifteen.”
“True, but my entire family has been trying for years, and finally, I got the invitation.” She tilted her head. “So, why do you want to see Castle DuMoir?”
The golden question. Everyone who was granted an invitation was asked that question. I clasped my hands together on my lap, glad I was shaking less and less, and told her what I had rehearsed for months now. “I’ve lived one town over for most of my life. There’s nothing interesting around here, except the fact that there’s a mysterious castle close by. Who doesn’t want to see it? To know the faces of the lords and nobles living inside it?”
Her grin was so big, I thought it would blind me. “Exactly! I don’t live in Crimson Glen, but my grandparents do. My parents were raised here until they got married and moved away, but we visit often. I’ve always dreamed of seeing the castle in person, to meet a prince, or a lord, or a royal guard, and …” Her cheeks gained a red tint, and she quickly averted her gaze.
Holy crap, this girl thought she was headed straight to a fairy tale. Cinderella going to meet the prince at the ball. Poor girl.
My anxiety and nervousness were replaced by a white-hot anger. Anger for this girl and her dreams. “Well, anything can happen,” I forced out.
She returned her eyes to mine, a small smile on her closed lips. “Anyway, I’m here to have a fun evening. I heard there’s a village outside the castle with actual taverns and inns and stables, like old stuff, you know?”
I nodded. “There’s also a lake and boat rides, and a small winery.”
“And to crown the night, a tour inside the castle and a masquerade party in the ballroom.”
A chill went down my spine. “That’s right.”
“So exciting,” Judy repeated for the tenth time or so. If I had to guess, I would hear that same tone coming from her at least another five hundred times until the end of this visit.
When the passengers were seated and the doors closed, Karl’s voice rang through the speakers. “Welcome aboard, ladies and gentlemen. Please, make yourself comfortable. Fun fact about our fabulous train: It can hit 250 miles per hour, but because DuMoir is only forty miles away and the scenery is beautiful at sunset, we’ll take this trip slow.”
A beautiful woman in a black suit, burgundy shirt and the silver cross pin appeared by my side. With a wide smile, she unfolded each of our tables, depositing on them crystal flutes filled with bubbling liquid.
“Thanks,” I whispered as she turned around and served the guests on the other side of the corridor.
“Please, enjoy a glass of one of our finest wines, produced at the DuMoir estate,” Karl continued. “If you need anything, our attendants can certainly help you. Enjoy the ride. We’ll be at the DuMoir Castle in less than thirty minutes.”
I eyed the flute and the champagne-like liquid in front of me.
I swallowed hard.
Beside me, Judy downed her champagne in one big gulp. With a loud, “Aahh,” she set down her glass and turned to me. “It’s delicious. Drink it.”
From the corner of my eye, I glanced at the attendants nearby. “I don’t really drink this kind of stuff.”
“But it’s great. You’ll like it.”
“No, I don’t want it.”
“Why not? We’re here to enjoy this visit. Here’s the first taste.”
I scrunched my nose. “I’m not—”
Judy exhaled. “Fine, then I’ll drink it.” I gasped as she grabbed my flute and drank the entire thing in less than two seconds. My throat went dry and my heart sped up. Again, I glanced at the attendants, this time not so discreet, but none of them were looking at us. Thankfully, Judy placed my now empty glass in front of me again. “Well, that was even better the second time around.” She chuckled.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” I whispered, wishing she wouldn’t really hear me.
She shrugged. “This fancy trip is free. I’m eating and drinking and taking everything they hand me. And if you don’t want it, I’ll have yours too.” She grinned, still looking as innocent and cheerful as the girl who first talked to me in the town’s square not twenty minutes ago.
My fingers itched, and even though I didn’t know this girl, a sudden urge to reach out and hold her hand assaulted me, too strong to contain. A small gasp escaped through my lips, but instead of reaching for her, I sat on my hands and looked straight ahead, eager for this night to be over.
For this whole thing to be over.
2
Drake
After thirteen days of incessant fighting, my exhaustion ran bone-deep.
Every step on the wide, shiny black staircase took more effort than I cared to admit.
I passed three human servants, who stared at my bloodied armor for one second too long before remembering their place and bowing deeply as I walked by.
I groaned. This place was crawling with humans.
Two men, dressed in the castle’s colors—black suit and deep red tie—stood in front of the double doors of Reynard’s office. They didn’t even look at me as I approached. They simply opened the doors, and I stepped aside.
“Drake,” Reynard’s voice floated toward me before I could place him. Them.
Though the room was filled with Reynard’s poignant scent, as I walked into the room, I smelled Alex’s presence, too.
With a glass of red liquid in his hand, Reynard poked his blond head around the corner of his office. “We’re in here.” I marched toward the long mahogany table and black leather armchairs, which sat before the large glass windows, then turned to the right. The office opened into a larger entertainment room, complete with pool table, low sofas, a big screen and movie theater like chairs. A bar stood against one wall crammed full of alcohol and blood.
Reynard stood between the pool table and the bar, sipping from his drink, while Alex leaned over the pool table, his mop of brown hair falling over his shoulders and face as he made a move. His cue stick hit the white ball with precision, and he pocketed four balls.
With a cat’s grin, Alex straightened and stared at me. “Hello, Drake. How were the northern mountains?”
I reigned in my hate for the insufferable prick and offered him the same predator’s smile. “Cold and distant.” Then, I turned to Reynard, our leader, and started on my report. “I tried solving the werewolves’ problems peacefully, but they weren’t having it. A battle ensued, and after thirteen days of fighting nonstop, I finally broke through. I killed their leaders, rounded the rest of the pack up, picked new leaders, and explained the rules to everyone.” I gestured down my bloodied armor. “I just got back.”
Reynard glanced at my clothes and clicked his tongue. “You should have rested before coming to me.”
“I can rest later,” I assured him. “Now, I just want a meal and a warm bath.”
“Oh, you’re hungry?” Alex asked, his voice amused. “Brianna, come here, darling.” As if pulled by a string, a young woman in a skimpy white dress appeared from behind the couch. She stood and I closed my eyes for a moment as if it hurt to look at such a young, pretty girl with several crusted over wounds on her once unmarred neck. Like a doll, she strolled toward Alex. “Take a bite,” he offered.
I suppressed a growl, though I was sure he could hear it rumbling inside my chest. “No, thank you,” I hissed.
He shook his head once. “Well, if you won’t have it …” He wound his arm around the young woman’s waist, pulled her close, and holding my gaze, he bared his teeth. His canines elongated, then he bit down on her neck.
The girl gasped in pleasure. The poor thing was probably a junkie, used to being a blood bag, used to our ecstasy-inducing saliva. A vampire’s bite was as addicting as it was dangerous.
Blood trickled down her neck, into the deep cleavage of her dress, between her plump breasts.
My mouth watered.
“Alex, you should put that blood slave out of her misery sooner rather than later,” Reynard barked, watching as Alex drank the girl�
�s blood with gusto. Reynard shook his head once, then turned to the bar. There, he picked one of many bottles filled with fresh blood and filled a fat glass to the brim. He offered it to me.
“Thank you,” I muttered, taking the glass. I inhaled deeply, letting the metallic heavy scent fill my senses. Then, I gulped it down as if there was a fire inside me and this drink, this red liquid, was the only thing that could quench it.
“There,” Alex said, letting go of the girl. Her body slumped to the floor like a potato sack. Like a real prince, Alex picked a handkerchief out of his suit’s pocket and cleaned his mouth. As for the girl, he didn’t even glance at her again. “I’ll have someone dispose of the body.”
Reynard ignored him and said to me, “That pack has been giving us trouble for years.” He absently reached for the silver cross pendant hanging over his shirt and twisted it between his thumb and index finger, as he usually did whenever he was thinking too hard.
I had been sent up there, to the northern, colder parts of Canada, to deal with it more times than I liked to remember. The crazy alpha had risen into power by sheer luck, and he resented the fact that his kind should remain hidden, should abide by rules. In one of his rage episodes, the alpha had led a team to decimate a small human village because some children decided to play in the forest and crossed into their territory by accident. Another time, vampires—good friends of Reynard—had been in the area visiting acquaintances. Apparently, one vampire got into a beef with a werewolf at a local bar, and the entire pack turned on the vampires. Usually, one to one, it was hard to tell who would win—it depended on the age of the vampire and the size of the werewolf, but dozens of werewolves against a handful of unprepared vampires? Not a chance.