Danville Horror: A Pat Wyatt Novel (The Pat Wyatt Series Book 3) (13 page)

I figured it was something like that, so I moved on. “What’s with the walking around in the daylight thing? I thought you burn. Yet Samuel and you were walking around outside in the middle of the day.”

“The clouds prevent us from burnin’. The darker the cloud, the less it hurts. And Chloe knows how ta make clouds. It’s her specialty.”

I shook my head. “Chloe. Of course, I should have known.” I went back to eating my food for a second and then I just had to know. Mortimer turned around, putting the dirty pot and pan in the sink when I blurted, “How is it that you can have sex?”

The clatter of the dishes was so loud that I had to cover my ears. He turned on his heels and looked at me, half amused, half confused. “Ye don’t like ta tip-toe ‘round t’ings, do ye?”

“I find it easier not to beat around the bush.”

He nodded. “I see dat.” He paused for a second and then I could see in his face that he had decided to tell me, but it wasn’t going to be easy for him. “Blood pressure.”

“Blood pressure?” I made his response a question. It was random, and very odd, so he needed to elaborate.

“When we feed, it raises the temperature in our blood and it sorta creates a synthetic blood pressure. The more we feed the easier we become aroused. Before ye ask,” he interrupted my thoughts, “Samuel feeds every day, twice sometimes. As fur me, I only feed about once a week. It even amazes Kathryn how much self control I ‘ave.”

I thought about that for a second. How could he have the same blood flowing through his veins as Samuel had? It seemed impossible. I pushed that thought aside and went on. “So you’re not as,” I paused, trying to be a little tactful this time, “active as Samuel?”

He shrugged. “I sometimes get the urge, but it’s few and far between. I like it dat way. Much less complicated.” He winked at me, and I laughed. I finally saw what my mother had probably seen. A sweet and honest vampire that was easy to talk to, and easy on the eyes. It was not hard to see the attraction.

“Is dat all?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not even close.”

He put the water on low and did the dishes while I ate another ravioli. “Go ahead then,” he prompted.

“All right,” I said with my mouth full, then swallowed. “Why can all of you read thoughts? It’s kind of creepy.”

He laughed. “True. But not all of us can read minds. Some are better than others. Like I’m better at it than Samuel. He can only read bits and pieces, and I can read full thoughts.” He looked at me, and I must have had a weird expression on my face because he quickly added, “Only when I focus on a particular person. Not all the time.”

I could feel my shoulders relax, and I took a breath letting it out slowly, deciding on my next question. “Are you dead?” I went with.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure what we are. I guess ye could say dat we’re undead.”

“Like zombies?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Zombies’re mindless, rottin’ corpses. We don’t rot. As fur the mindless t’ing…” he paused, laughing a little, “dat’s debatable.”

I smiled, placing the last of the ravioli in my mouth. I couldn’t remember eating all of them, and it had looked like a lot, but they went down easy. I hated when I forgot what I ate; it was a pain in the ass trying to stay on a diet, which was probably why I never successfully started one. Finally, I took another sip of water before I continued with my questions. “How did Samuel become your maker?”

He picked up the plate, putting it in the sink and then gave me his full attention. His gray eyes were dark in contrast to his very white skin. Mortimer looked tired, actually tired, like he had told this story hundreds of times before and every time he did, he hated to relate it. “Well, I guess I should start from the beginnin’, eh?” he asked.

I nodded. “Sure, why not?”

“Ye go inta the livin’ room and relax a bit. I’ll be in after I finish the dishes and then I’ll tell ye.”

“Okay.” I walked down the hall with my glass of water in my good hand, and I noticed it wasn’t as swollen as I thought it would be after punching my sister’s hard skull. Then I turned on the overhead lights and I sat down on the big, comfy couch, waiting for Mortimer to finish the stupid dishes. I hated being left in suspense, and he made me wait two minutes.

“Ready?” he asked, and I could see he looked a lot less tired.

I nodded. “Ready.”

“Right then,” he said, sitting next to me on the couch. “I was born in Cork, Ireland, in the year eighteen-hundred-ninety-one, and was the son of a farmer. I was never meant ta be anythin’ but a farmer fur the whole of me life. Then I met a gerl. She was the prettiest gerl in all of Ireland. A real Galway gerl.”

I smiled. “Like the song?”

“Exactly like the song,” he went on. “Her hair was the deepest black, and ‘er eyes were as blue as the sky. She was so luv’ly. Like somethin’ out of a dream. And I luved ‘er. More than me own life. Her name was Lana. We were smitten, we were. Never went anywhere without one another. But she was rich and I was poor. Still, I luved ‘er so much dat I felt like I would die without ‘er.

“One day, Lana suggested we run away tagether and elope. Of course, I was right there with ‘er. I wanted ta be ‘er husband so badly dat I would’ve risked honor and pride fur ‘er hand. We picked a night, and we were all set ta do what we had ta in order ta be tagether. ‘Bout a week later, I went ta ‘er house ta meet ‘er in the back garden, and there she was. Just as beautiful in the moonlight as the daytime.

“We ran as fast as we could but ‘er father ‘ad found out what we were doin’ somehow, and went chasin’ after us. Next t’ing I knew there was a loud explosion, and I felt dis pain in me back. When I woke up later me father was over me bed cryin’. I couldn’t breathe, and I knew I was dyin’. Lana’s father had shot me thinkin’ I was stealin’ his daughter from ‘em.”

“Oh my good God,” I gasped, placing my hand over my mouth. “What happened after that?”

“Well,” he continued, “the bullet hadn’t quite gotten round ta killin’ me. It was a very inaccurate shot. Hit me in the back and went through to me stomach. It took me a long time ta die. But before I did, there was dis doctor me father wanted me ta see. He t’aught ‘e was gonna save me life. When the doctor came inta the room, ‘e asked me a question.” He paused and I waited. Then he looked at me with a frown, which looked odd on his face. “He asked me if I wanted ta live. ‘Course I said yes. And dat is the last I remember of me life as a human bein’.

“I awoke three days later, clawin’ me way out of me own coffin. Dat was not a nice feelin’, darlin’. Especially when d’are was a large, dark man, standin’ over me ta greet me a good night.” I noticed that when he was getting a little perturbed, his accent became very thick, and he dropped a lot more of his t’s and th’s. “He told me his name was Samuel Satan. I mean ‘ave ye ever ‘eard of a man bein’ named after the devil? I knew I was in trouble. When ‘e told me what I was, ‘course I was in shock and the only thing dat I really wanted was ta go back ta Lana. He warned me not ta, but I pushed past ‘em, and ran so quickly dat I couldn’t believe I was d’are dat fast and up on ‘er balcony in a second. I stood d’are and knocked on ‘er winda. It took ‘er all of a moment ta come runnin’. But as she opened the glass door ta me, she took one look at me and laughed.

“She thought it was funny that I had faked me own death ta elope with ‘er. Then she said somethin’ dat broke me heart. She told me dat she never loved me, dat she was just playin’ with me ta get on ‘er father’s nerves, and was confused why I ‘ad gone so far fur ‘er. I tried ta explain that I was in luv with ‘er, but she just stood d’are and laughed again. After some beggin’ on my end, she screamed at me ta get out and I did.”

“What a bitch,” I blurted, and he looked at me funny. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. She broke me heart, so bitch is fair. But I got over it. However, when Samuel found out, he laughed at me, and I almost killed ‘em. Then ‘e explained that it would have never worked between us and dat he was confused as ta why I hadn’t killed ‘er on the spot. He explained dat when ‘e first was made, ‘e killed two people in one night. I didn’t ‘ave dat urge. But when I settled down from all the excitement, I was hungry. Very hungry. Samuel ran with me over ta Dublin, and we found a pub where d’are was lots of drunks around. We went inta the back alley where ‘e told me ta wait. The next t’ing I knew, he was pulling dis barmaid out by ‘er hair. He threw ‘er at me, and commanded that I feed. I did, but I only drank as much as I needed, not as much as I wanted. And when I was done, she was still alive. ‘Course ‘e got angry and started shoutin’ at me ta kill ‘er, but I refused. And I haven’t killed anyone ta this day.”

“Bastard,” I muttered to myself, finally realizing something.

“Excuse me?”

I shook my head, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Not you. Samuel said that you were a great warrior. Now I understand why he laughed to himself.”

He nodded. “His big joke. He’s such a feckin’ arsehole.”

“You can say that again.”

We were silent for a while, and my mind wandered. The little voice in my head urged me to ask Mortimer something that I had a feeling he would know about. “Mortimer?”

“Yes,” he answered with a smile.

“How long were you with Samuel?” I started out easy.

He sighed. “Ten long years. Why?”

“Did he ever mention why he is the way he is? I mean, I’ve met Mariah, so I know part of the reason, but he’s so much more…” my voice trailed away until I finally found the right word, “vicious than he needs to be. Do you know why?”

He averted his gaze and said, “No, I have no clue.”

“You’re lying to me again, Mortimer.”

“How do ye know dat?” he asked, finally looking at me again.

“You have an easy tell,” I explained. “You look away when you lie.”

“Shit,” he hissed, and I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. But that didn’t stop me.

“Please, Mortimer,” I begged. “I have to know. It’s driving me crazy.”

“All right,” he conceded, “but ye ‘ave to promise not ta ask any questions.”

“I promise,” I said. But really this was me we were talking about. The questions would come, and he would have to answer them whether he liked it or not.

I saw him think about this for a second, realized what he was getting himself into, and he continued anyway. “The night before ‘e dropped me off at Kathryn’s ‘e told me a story. One dat I will not soon forget. He told me the story of his death and rebirth just as I’m tellin’ it ta ye now. I must warn ye, some parts’re not fur the faint of ‘eart. Are ye sure ye want ta ‘ear this?”

I nodded defiantly. “Yes.”

“Right…” he paused, prepared himself, and told the story. “Samuel was born in France and was thirty years old when he married the luv of his life.”

“I knew it,” I whispered, and he cocked a brow at me. “He said that he never had a wife before. I knew he was lying.”

“It was a long time ago, Patricia,” he clarified, “and ‘e doesn’t like ta talk ‘bout it. It doesn’t make it right, but there ye ‘ave it. Anyway, he married a woman who was ten years young than ‘e was. But ‘e loved ‘er just the same. She completed ‘em, so ‘e said, and I believed ‘em. Four years later, they had a daughter named Marie. After dat, their little family was whole.

“Ye should’ve seen his face when ‘e talked about them. He lit up inside. I’d never seen ‘em like dat, and I don’t t’ink I ever will again. He was in luv with them, and life went on. ‘Til one day his little gerl was taken from ‘em.”

When Mortimer said that, I felt awful. “Oh no. What happened?” First question. Promise already broken.

“We know it now as Scarlet Fever,” he answered. “She was only four. They were devastated, and rightly so. But his wife, Claire, was so distraught dat one day ‘e came home from an outing and found ‘er hangin’ out the winda by the silk sheets.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “After dat he was a mess. He nearly drank ‘emself ta death. Every night he’d go out and he’d get drunk. Even during the day sometimes. Then one night, ‘e met a woman dat told ‘em ‘e was the most beautiful t’ing she’d ever seen. Samuel said it was because ‘e never seemed ta age, even when ‘e was alive. He got ta about twenty-five and looked the same way until she got ‘em.”

Samuel still looked twenty-five, but I didn’t want to get off track, so all I asked was, “Mariah?”

“Mariah,” he confirmed. I could imagine her angular features, creepy smile, and sliver streaked black hair, luring Samuel in. She was a soulless goddess, and it wouldn’t have taken much for her to get him and keep him where she wanted him. “All ‘e remembers was comin’ out of a shallow grave three nights later,” Mortimer’s voice shook the images out of my head, bringing me back to the story. “After dat they were inseparable. Mariah taught ‘em dat ta kill was the only way ta feed. But Samuel didn’t like dat. He told me dat ‘e still ‘ad his humanity about ‘em, and ‘e didn’t like killin’ for no reason. In fact, the two people ‘e killed on his first night still haunted ‘em and ‘e couldn’t stand it. He kept on insistin’ ta me dat ‘e didn’t want ta kill, Mariah forced ‘em. She beat it inta his brain dat if ‘e didn’t, she would torture ‘em by pullin’ his fangs out. She’d done it at least six times before, and it takes months fur fangs ta come back in. Meanwhile, she’d starve ‘em and tease ‘em ‘bout it.

“One night when she was out doin’ ‘er own t’ing, she told ‘em ta go out and find someone ta eat while she was away, and ‘e obeyed. However, ‘e didn’t count on meetin’ a luv’ly duchess who stole his breath away. Figuratively speaking, mind ye. He said dat she was so beautiful and so full of life dat he just knew she was gonna be his salvation. She was gonna save ‘em from ‘emself. So they fell in luv. A vampire and a human. Samuel likes breakin’ the rules, but ‘e couldn’t help it. From the moment ‘e saw ‘er dat was it.

“A month passed and they had successfully met up without Mariah findin’ out. Then one night, he went ta the inn they frequented and she wasn’t there. He really didn’t t’ink anythin’ of it, she had missed meetin’s before, but when he went back ta his mansion, dat’s where him and Mariah were stayin’, t’ings were off. He could smell fresh blood comin’ from the bedroom. And when he made his way upstairs and inta the room, he saw his duchess hanging from a hook by ‘er bound hands. Her legs were spread wide and she was stark naked. Mariah came out from the shadows behind the door and laughed. She told ‘em dat she had found out his little secret and was ready ta play his game. Then ‘e said his duchess looked at him, pleadin’ ta be let go. When ‘e tried ta help ‘er, Mariah hit ‘em, and ‘e fell backwards. The next t’ing ‘e remembered was bein’ tied with his hands and feet behind his back and bein’ made ta kneel in front of his very injured luv.