The Tale of the Vampire Bride (18 page)

I nodded, whimpering as the hunger tore at me. I could hear her heart beating, summoning me to feed. “I swear it. I will escape! I will!”

She forced a smile and laid her journal aside. Calmly, she dug a little hole in the dirt, filth and straw that littered the floor. She genuflected, and I had to look away for my eyes burned as for a moment her body flashed beautifully white. She kissed the rosary tenderly, laid it in the hole, and covered it.

“Mother,” I whispered.

Calmly, she stood up, brushing her skirts with her hands. Gently, she tucked her hair back from her face and neck, turning to gaze fully upon me.

“I can die now, in peace, my darling one.”

“Mother, I cannot!”

Without her cross, I felt released to move toward her, to take hold of her, but I fought that desire.

“If you do not take my life now, Glynis, he will slaughter me as he did your father. I know it. I do not want to die like that.”

“Do not ask this of me!”

“And if you wait any longer, you will go mad with the hunger. Already it is tearing at you. I have heard you howl in the night with the agony of it. He waited until this night when it would seize hold of you to bring you here. If you wait any longer, will you even care that I am your mother?” She looked so brave and beautiful, my haughty, lovely mother.

“I cannot!”

She gave me her most stern look. “I ask you to take my life now before you go mad. I see it in your eyes. You will not care who I am when the hunger overwhelms you. I do not want to suffer that terror. Spare me that agony. Give me release!”

“Never!” I covered my face with my hands. “I will not take your life!”

But you will, my love.

The low, seductive voice of my Master whispered ever so softly into my ear, his cold breath chilling my cheek.

I whirled about, but only shadows surrounded me.

Mother was fidgeting, her hands trembling at her sides. “Please, Glynis, help me escape this place.”

She begs for death. Will you not you grant her what she desires?

I could not see my Master, but his presence filled the cell. “I will not!”

My Mother held out her arms to me, her hands beseeching me. “Please, Glynis, release me from this place.”

“Stop it, Mother,” I screeched at her. The hunger was ripping me to shreds and the soft, haunting voice of my Master filled me with dread. I could not do this thing. I would not!

If you do not take her, I will stake her through and leave her body to rot in our resting place. I will make her suffer as only I can.

I began to scream, my hands raised out against my invisible tormentor. As quickly as his presence had filled the chamber, it was gone, just the echo of his laughter remaining.

My mother was terrified by my actions, but she remained trembling before me, determined and strong. Grasping hold of me, she forced me into her arms, clasping me tightly. I shrieked in agony, throwing back my head in anguish.

Stroking my hair, my mother whispered, “Cara mia, cara mia, I love you. Shush now, be strong.”

Overwhelmed, I fell against her. We collapsed to the floor together, my face buried in her lap. Weeping, my mother held me tightly, rocking back and forth. Whispering prayers fervently under her breath, my mother slowly slid her hand under my lowered head and lifted my face.

“As I gave you life before, I give you life once more,” she whispered. “Do not forget me. Do not forget that I love you.”

“Mother, I will not forget you, Father or May. If I should live until the world dies, I will not forget. Pray for me in heaven. Pray for me.”

“I promise,” my mother sobbed. “I will pray before the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. I will beseech the Blessed Virgin to watch over you. I pray that they will have mercy on your soul. I promise you.” My mother took a deep breath. “Now drink, my darling. Drink and live. And do not forget your promise to me. You will escape this place.

“I will. I swear it.” I raised my eyes and captured her gaze. “Now rest, my mother. Rest and feel no pain. Rest.”

“Yes, I think I will rest,” my Mother whispered, her expression dazed.

“Rest.”

“Yes.”

“And feel no pain.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and she dropped into my arms. Tenderly, tears streaming down my face, I lowered my head and kissed her throat. My fangs descended beneath my red lips.

“I forgive you,” she whispered.

The hunger rose.

My pearl white teeth, sharp as daggers, descended into her soft flesh and blood flowed. Feeding as hungrily as a babe at my mother’s breast, I drank in my mother’s life. The shadows roaming the darkened cell pressed close as the wolves’ howls echoed through the night.

In that filthy chamber, my mother held me in her arms and gave me all that she possessed of worth in this dark world: her life’s blood, which flowed in a dark red gush. It became a sacred moment, and I wept as she weakened against me.

“I forgive you,” she whispered again softly.

The hunger would not release me. I fed despite my sobs of anguish and my tears.

“A light is coming,” my mother said.

As the hunger abated and died within me like the last embers of a great fire, the true horror of what I was doing washed over me. Forcing my mouth from the bleeding wound, I glanced about the cell. No great wondrous light filled the cell with ethereal beauty.

My mother smiled, her lips pale and blue. “May, dear May…”

I looked up sharply, but did not see the an angelic apparition of my sister.

“Mother, do you see her?”

There was no response.

“Mother?”

Silence greeted me. Not even the darkness whispered to me.

I looked down at her and saw that her eyes were staring.

“Mother! No!”

I wept into her hair and held her tightly. I do not how it happened, but when I gazed down upon her again, her eyes were closed. She appeared to be sleeping, but I knew she was truly dead.

“Forgive me, forgive me.”

Cradling my mother’s body, I wept into the darkness. I could not bear this agony, this horror. But the hunger was now gone, and the horrible all consuming desire to feed was appeased.

“You are free, Mother. You are free.” I covered her face with kisses, holding her. “I will escape. I swear it. I will.”

As the wolves once more began to howl, I held my mortal mother’s dead body and wept.

Hours later the door yawned open and Vlad Dracula swept into the cell. I rose up before him, my flesh was now rosy from my feeding. Behind me, meticulously laid out, was my dead mother.

“It is done,” I said somberly.

Vlad smiled at me. “I knew you would not disappoint me.”

My lips spread into a dark smile, not that different from his own. “Oh, but I will.”

He was startled. “In what way?”

“You will see. Someday.”

In the hours after my Mother’s death, I had taken upon myself her sacred edict. I would escape. I would be free. Her body had given birth to me. Her blood gave me life. Despite Vlad’s dark power, the power of her flesh and blood gave me strength to endure all that he would inflict on me. He had meant for me to defile my mother by feasting on her. Instead, she had given me a holy sacrament of flesh and blood.

Vlad stared at me for a long moment. I could see he could not read my expression. “I won here, did I not?” He suddenly seemed less sure of himself.

I smiled at him. “I wish to go be with my sisters now.”

His eyes narrowed on my face, then nodded. “Very well.”

I swept past him and left him staring at my dead mother.

Someday, he will know that she conquered him.

Someday.

Chapter 10

The Journal of Andrew Wright- England

17th of July, 1819

I must admit I am quite upset at the day’s events. The morning started quite well. I took a stroll across the grounds, overseeing my workers, and enjoying the morning breeze. The lush English countryside spread out around me as the sun peeked through the clouds sailing across the blue sky above. Not a drop of rain in sight. Heavenly!

Despite the loveliness of the day, I slowly found myself falling into a pensive mood. My thoughts became tormented as I walked toward the manor. For nearly a year I have lived without the company of my family and the months of separation are now unbearable.

Many a young man would be glad to be rid of his parents and sisters for such a long length of time and enjoy the freedom of running the family estate, but I am not that sort of man. At times I am utterly despondent. I miss the sharp tongue of my mother, the calm tones of my father, the shy giggles of my youngest sister and, of course, the wild ways of my sister, Glynis.

It has been nearly a month since their last letter. At that time they were visiting in Italy and preparing to leave for Buda. Their diversion to Buda had been unexpected and was a disappointment for it prolonged their stay abroad. But when my mother has set her mind, nothing will stop her. Though I am terribly fond of my sister and I want her to be happy, I am not sure marriage is what she actually needs.

I admit I am the only member of the family who does not find Glynis troublesome. Honestly, I adore her grandiose ideas of a life of freedom from society’s restrictive ways, and I have always admired her desire to be treated as an equal to any man. Many women are satisfied to be treated as a gentle creature in need of being cared for and protected. Glynis will have none of that. She has always wanted to be acknowledged as an intelligent, opinionated individual in control of her own destiny. Perhaps it is wrong for me to support my sister’s wild ideas, but I do think she is a marvelous delight.

I miss all my family and I am quite desperate for them to return. The house seems so empty without them.

It was in the midst of my thoughts I looked up to see my wife rushing toward me in a flurry of pink.

“Andrew, Andrew, darling!”

She was beautiful with her brown curls bouncing and her face flushed as she ran toward me clutching her skirt up around her ankles.

“Andrew, dearest, a letter arrived in the post. It is from your father!”

I felt my face burst into a wide grin. “At last word from my wandering family. I have been beginning to worry.”

She ran into my arms, laughing with delight. “It was such a relief to see the letter. Hurry and open it!”

I anxiously took the envelope and pried it open.

Angeline drew close to me, peering down at my father’s looping handwriting. “What does he say?”

I quickly read, my lips moving silently. I began to chuckle as I read. “It seems that Glynis caused a little stir upon arriving in Buda. Father caught her in a sitting room trying to light up a smoking pipe.”

“Will your sister ever stop trying to be a man?” My wife laughed with delight.

“She does not want to be a man, Angeline. She just wants to have the power of a man,” I corrected her. “Father goes on and writes that Glynis has been behaving abominably in our mother’s eyes. Evidently, May and Glynis were invited to join a riding party, and Glynis showed up in trousers, declaring that it is silly to wear a dress to ride a horse.”

“Oh, my! What happened?”

“Mother wanted to wring her neck, but Father calmly sent Glynis to change. You know she always obeys Father. He goes on to write that May is recovering from her fainting spells and eating better now. Oh, this is interesting. Father says that a Count Dracula has asked to court Glynis.”

“A count? Really? A native of that land by the sound of the name.”

“I think so. Oh, yes, father writes that they are traveling to his country estate for a visit. That is interesting. It does sound rather serious. You do not think they would leave Glynis as a bride in that country, do you?”

My wife pursed her lips as she considered the possibility. “I do not know. Your mother is very intent on marrying her off.”

“But it would not be right. I would miss her dreadfully. I never did like this whole concept of traveling the Continent to find her a husband.” My brow furrowed. “No, no. I should not worry. She will do something to horrify the Count and then they shall come home.”

“I do not think they are ever going to find your sister a proper husband,” my wife confessed.

I nodded, my expression thoughtful. “Glynis has a mind of her own. She is very opinionated. I still remember how horrified mother was when she discovered Glynis wearing my clothes and preparing to clip her hair short, all in attempt to sneak into the parlor where my friends and I were having a discussion about politics.”

“She did that? How old was she?”

“It was about three years ago, so she was almost sixteen. My sister is very odd at times.” I smiled at the memory.

“You should hear her go on and on about Lord Byron. Do you know she hid away a copy of the New Monthly Magazine that had that horrible story by Lord Byron about a vampire? Your mother was very upset when she found it. She said that young ladies should not be reading such things,” Angeline said with a little laugh.