Greenwood: Paranormal Vampire Romance (The Darker Side of Deb Book 1) Page 6

  “Really?” Dagmar sat back against the seat and sucked at his drink.

  If he had adrenaline, it would have spiked, but still Alix felt the knife edge of fear. Dagmar hadn’t believed him, so now he would die. The air moved around him, but he refused to duck. There was no way he could beat the thousand-year-old vampire so he would go out with dignity. He would not betray Deb.

  Dagmar sat back and handed Alix a glass. It contained the same mixture of blood and brandy. With a hand that wanted to tremble, he took the glass and sipped slowly.

  “You have done well, but I still think our Miss Marshall deserves a deeper scrutiny. Stick close to her and I will arrange for a member of The Guild to pay her a visit.”

  Even the mention of The Guild of Vampires turned Alix’s blood to stone and if they arrived, they would know that he had told only half truths. He had failed to mention that Vincent Fox was following the girl and that he was probably there after the accident. Had he turned her, and if so, why was she still crippled? “Is that necessary?”

  “You dare question my command?” Dagmar had a face that looked permanently amused yet it had made grown men scream.

  Alix shrank beneath that look, but he would not back down. “I just wonder if it is wise to stir the hornets’ nest. Her uncle is one of this town’s most influential people and he controls the media.”

  “You are worried that we may expose ourselves?” Dagmar asked.

  Actually I don’t want anything to happen to her. “Yes. We have a secure life here. The murders created a problem but now that he has confessed, we should be in the clear again.”

  “Markoff was one of mine,” Dagmar said as he sipped his blood.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Understanding is not necessary.” Dagmar let the silence stretch. “I’m old and I get bored. My own kills would cause too much trouble, but I miss the smell of a fresh corpse. Markoff was compelled by me and he killed at my whim. I have others like him but he was my favorite.”

  Alix could do nothing but stare. Deb had risked grave danger going to Markoff when she believed he was simply a serial killing cannibal. Knowing now that he was compelled by one of the oldest remaining vampires, how had she survived and how had she managed to override Dagmar’s compulsion?

  “Do you disapprove?” Dagmar asked.

  This was like the spider beckoning to the fly and Alix knew he was on sticky ground. It was well known that he did not drink from humans, except in situations like this where he had no choice. If he appeased Dagmar, would the older vampire know he was lying? But if he showed disapproval, well he may feel real death. The decision made, he decided to stick to his principles and see where that led. “I can’t see the appeal myself, but I understand about boredom.”

  Everyone thinks that living forever is the ultimate goal, but even in his one hundred and forty-two years Alix understood it was anything but. Imagine a world where sunlight hurts. It burns your eyes and stings your skin so much that you must wear sunscreen, gloves and glasses. Imagine that you have seen it all and that food is tasteless. Imagine that you need human blood to be at your best. You can survive on animal blood, but the taste is disgusting and leaves you weaker than your human drinking companions. Imagine seeing the human race making the same mistakes over and over again and you are powerless to do anything. You cannot stay in one place too long or they will notice that you never age. If you get attached to anyone, they age and die leaving you with grief so overwhelming it flattens you. Vampirism was a curse and he would not wish it on his worst enemy, still he would not go to his death willingly.

  “Yes, boredom is our greatest enemy. I cannot understand why Markoff confessed and will need to look into it, but the prophecy is my first concern.”

  Alix would have breathed a sigh of relief if he was capable of it, but he could not stop there. Maybe he could prevent this if he acted now. “Why does this prophecy bother you so much?”

  Dagmar turned, his fangs out, his eyes a putrid yellow and the veins in his neck were filled to bursting. “Because it foretells the destruction of our race.”

  “That’s not how I read it,” Alix wished he had kept quiet; the look on Dagmar’s face froze him on the spot.

  “One will come who is vampire and not vampire. They will be impervious to sunlight and will turn the species from predator to protector. Do you see me as a protector?” Dagmar asked.

  “No… But this should not happen yet, not for over a hundred years. This weak little girl cannot be… she cannot be dangerous to us…” Alix finished and waited for the wrath he was sure would follow.

  “A vampire in the body of a six-year-old human girl killed my eldest brother. Never underestimate; it is the surest way to die. Go now,” Dagmar said, “and get close to this girl. When a member of The Guild arrives, they will do as they see fit. In the meantime, if you learn anything more, come to me.” He passed Alix a business card. It was gray with gold writing and could have very well been for a firm of accountants.

  Alix took the card, nodded and stepped out into the cold night. The car whisked away into the darkness and he watched until it was gone. Pulling out his phone, he composed a text.

  Hi Deb, had a great time how about meeting up for coffee.

  He would send it first thing tomorrow. Part of him wished that she would say yes and another that she would not even answer.

  Chapter Twelve

  As Alix got out of the limousine, Vincent sank back into the shadows. The yew tree provided good cover. It produced a pungent fragrance that hid him from the other predator and allowed him to watch undisturbed. The conversation had shocked him. How had Dagmar found out about Deb?

  Vincent had turned her himself, had broke his golden rule and afflicted his curse on another. When he arrived on the scene, she was so close to death. She looked so young and vulnerable that he had to give her a chance. The first part of the process was to feed her his blood. Despite her weakened state, she fought like a tiger and scratched his arms and face. After that, he should have drained her until all that was left was his blood. Sinking his fangs into her torn jugular was euphoric. Slick, warm blood pooled into his mouth and slid down his throat. It tasted both sweet and salty and filled him with power. The urge to roar was compelling, but he placed his mouth back on her throat and drank deeply. Her heart had started to slow when he heard a car pull up on the road. Light shone down around the car. Excited voices rolled across the grass; people were coming. Vincent wanted to lift her from the car, to carry her away but to do so he would risk being exposed.

  She had to die to complete the process, but he did not have the time to drain her. If he snapped her neck and killed her before finishing, she would simply die. As the voices got closer, he pulled back. It was no good, there was not enough time. For a second, he thought about killing the rescuers in order to give the girl a chance to survive, but he could not do that, not now, not here. Maybe his blood would heal her though he doubted it, her injuries were far too extensive.

  Reluctantly he retreated to the tree line and watched as the rescuers cut her from the car. As they got her onto a stretcher, he heard her heart stop. It was over; he had failed. With a heavy heart, he turned to leave. A flurry of activity pulled him to a stop. They were trying to save her. Tuning in his hearing, he listened.

  “Charge to 300.”

  “Clear.”

  He heard the pulse of electricity, heard her heart as it was shocked to a beat. But that had been two years ago and miraculously she had survived. At the time, he presumed his blood had saved her. But on the off chance that she had turned, he stole into her hospital room and while she slept, he fed her a syringe full of human blood.

  Vincent scoured his mind, trying to work out who knew she had been fed. The problem was no one else could possibly have been there, so how had Dagmar found out? Besides that, the major question was how could he protect Deb against them?

  Vincent watched as Alix vanished into the shadows. He had to watch him becau
se if he threatened Deb he would die.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vincent made sure that he stayed downwind as he followed Alix home. The man looked defeated. His shoulders were slumped; his steps were slow and robotic. As the dawn broke across the horizon he shut himself inside and settled down to sleep. It was a small house in red brick with double front windows. The small, neat garden contained a silver Volvo.

  Settling down in the shadows, Vincent decided to stay and watch a while. He doubted that Alix would surface before nightfall. Being young, the sun would have taken its toll on him. Unlike in the movies, a vampire could walk in the sunlight but it cost him dearly. For the first one-hundred years of their new life, the vampire’s skin was too tender to cope with ultra-violet rays without searing. Their epidermis would smoke and blister, but they would not burst into flames. As they got older it became easier but it was never pleasant, it sapped them of their energy and took some time to recover. Alix was one hundred and forty-two years old; Vincent knew this because they had once been friends. He would be tired and would need to recuperate before he met Deborah for coffee.

  The lights went off and the house settled into darkness. Vincent was blind; he could not use his infrared vision to check where the younger vampire slept because unlike a human they had no heat signature. It did not matter though because he would hear movement if Alix tried to leave.

  Vincent decided to wait for a while and settled down to watch the sun as it slowly rose over the horizon. It was a beautiful morning and the clouds changed from a deep purple through a series of pinks and settled as sky blue. Alix had not moved and at around seven, Vincent made a decision. He had to warn Deb and to protect her. The best way he could do that would be to take her away with him. If they disappeared, he could keep her safe until he was sure what she was and if she had any power.

  Vincent parked his Mercedes in a small copse of trees about a half mile from Mace Coltrane’s estate. On the drive, he had gone over in his mind what he would say. How could he persuade the girl to come with him? As he got out of the car, the scent of fear drifted to him on the wind. It was intoxicating and he was pulled towards it. Someone was running and they were afraid. Faster than the wind he turned and ran towards the smell.

  ***

  The girl tripped and fell face first into the soft mulch beneath the tall pines. She grunted as the air left her lungs and tried to turn over. He placed a foot on her back and pushed her down into the mud. It would have been better if she had run further, the chase was exhilarating and it gave the blood a tangy flavor that he savored. It was the fear and adrenaline leaving a zest behind and he always felt more powerful as if the blood was supercharged.

  Reaching down he pulled her to her feet and moving faster than she could comprehend, he slammed her into a tree. Wearing just a pink runner’s bra and black shorts, her skin glistened with sweat and he leaned forward and licked across her collar bone. Minute tremors coursed down her body and her eyes pleaded with him to stop, but so far she was unable to find her voice. Her mouth opened and closed in a comic impersonation of a guppy fish, but only the smallest of moans emerged from between her tight lips. Her sweat was salty and delicious and he tasted her neck before sinking his fangs deep into her jugular. The first rush of blood was euphoric. It pulsed into his mouth and slipped down his throat as she shook beneath his hands. Many people said that blood tasted of copper, but her’s, the runner’s, had the flavor of wild plums and it was delicious. He found the more adrenaline, the more fear - the sweeter the blood and he loved sweet.

  She pushed against him, but her arms were weak and her heart had started to slow. It would not be long now and he pulled back, grabbed her hand and sank his teeth into her wrist. She was no longer able to run; in fact her glazed eyes seemed to ask him why? A smile crossed his face and he sucked deeply pulling the warm, thick blood into his throat and now he could indulge in his favorite pastime. As he sucked out the last of her blood, he watched the light go out of her eyes. Thrilled as her heart thumped wildly against her chest, desperate to find some of the sacred liquid that would allow it to keep pumping, her eyes opened wide. They were full of fear and realization. She knew it was her end and the disbelief was intoxicating.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Deb left the house early with a smile on her face and joy in her heart. Last night had been amazing, for the first time since the accident she had felt like a woman. Alix was something else; attractive, intelligent and he treated her… like it was a real date. There had been no sympathy in his eyes, no judgment he just seemed to like her and they had talked late into the night. The only thing that had given her doubts, well apart from her thinking his face changed, was that he hadn’t arranged to see her again. The air was chill as she wheeled away from the house, and she pulled her top closed until she got moving. The scent of earth drifted over from the woodlands and somewhere a pheasant let out its raucous call.

  She plugged in her headphones and was about to start her running… wheeling mix when a text notification came through. Allowing the chair to roll to a stop, she checked the message and felt as if she would burst with delight.

  ‘Had a great night, meet me at the grill for coffee, 3pm? Alix.’

  Deb quickly typed a reply as the sun rose over the horizon sending golden rays down to chase away the mist. This was going to be a fantastic day. The sun warmed her skin and filled her heart with a joy that she could not keep off her face. How things had changed.

  Using her chair with the chunky wheels, she set off on the woodland track. Before her accident, she loved to run and would often cover twenty miles a week. Not being able to run was the least of her problems but there were times when it had left her despondent. Knowing she could never have that feeling of freedom in the chair added to her depression, but Mace had insisted on buying her this one with specially adapted wheels. At first she had refused to use it but Nova had told her that was behaving like a spoilt child. So then she just went out to keep Mace happy but after a couple of weeks, she found she got almost as good an endorphin boost as she did when she ran.

  It was a nice uphill track away from the house, and she pushed down feeling the burn in her arms. A robin bobbed along on the brush at the edge of the path. At first Deb thought it may follow her but she soon left it behind, its red breast resplendent in the early morning sunshine. It was good to see the birds and the air was full of the sound of them singing as they welcomed the morning. The sun was low on the horizon and the day was fresh with a slight mist.

  Deb couldn’t stop thinking about Alix. It had been an amazing night, the best since her accident. She loved his sense of humor, the slant of his jaw and those azure blue eyes that she could dive into and lose herself forever. As she rounded the top of the hill, she remembered how he had changed. No, it must have been a trick of the light.

  Her breath was coming fast but even and she could feel the burn in her arms. The partially broken track gave her a good workout, both mentally and physically as she had to negotiate it with care. Topping a hill she relaxed, the next section was easier and she would have time to regain her breath before the subsequently rise. As she passed a dog rose entwined with wild honeysuckle, a smile crossed her face. The fragrance was delightful yet there was something else in the air, something stronger.

  Deb took in a deep breath as she approached the next climb. It was a coppery smell, rich and meaty and she found her mouth watering and her stomach started to rumble. She lowered her head and pushed down with all her might and the chair surged up the mound. As she climbed over the top, something moved in her peripheral vision. It was black and fast and stopped about six foot in front of her in a small clearing. Deb turned the chair and her breath caught in her throat.

  Surrounded by trees and shrouded in filtered sunlight, a naked woman lay in the mulch. No, she wasn’t naked, she was a runner. She could have been me. Her neck and chest were covered in blood. It had leaked from a savage wound in her throat and traced across skin so white, it
could have been marble. Deb expected to feel revulsion or fear but instead her stomach grumbled and she felt a deep and enduring hunger. The blood had spread across a pink bra top and pooled into the woman’s belly button. Deb had a vision of herself licking that blood and she could not prevent the scream that ripped from her throat. The man who was balanced on his heels perched over the body turned towards her. He was wearing blue jeans and a black Henley top and he looked like death. At the sound of her voice, he leaped into action. Fear spidered down Deb’s spine; she had stumbled on a murder and her prospects of escape were poor.

  As soon as she took in the scene she had slammed both hands onto the push rims and the chair had skidded to a halt spewing stones out to each side. The dark figure raced towards her. It was Vincent. The sight of him was like a sledgehammer to her chest. All the breath left her lungs and was replaced with the cold hand of fear. She was back in her dream only this time she could see his face, it was the same as Alix’s had been last night. Deb shook her head, this wasn’t real. Vincent’s eyes were the sickly yellow of a sand adder she had seen many years ago. It still sent shivers down her spine, but it got worse. Blood vessels were gorged on his neck. She could see the blood as it pulsed through those veins and a sickness settled in her stomach as she understood that it was the dead girl’s blood that bloated those veins. A set of fangs protruded over his bottom lip and he had a feral look that froze her to the spot.

  Deb knew she had to move, knew she should be out of there already, but part of her could not leave the girl. Vincent dropped his head and then looked back at her. His face was normal, his eyes a cold gray. Balanced on his heels, she knew that he could launch at her any moment and she doubted that she would be able to outrun him. Her hand reached down and found her mobile. Without looking she dialed nine - nine - nine. When the call was answered, what would she say? It was impossible to believe what she had seen, never mind describe it. Maybe if she just left the call open the police would come?