Of the Blood Read online

  The thought sent a shudder up my spine.

  The dark figure in my nightmare . . . were they real? Or had my parents returned? I wasn’t certain how long I was unconscious. The days and nights had fused together. I didn’t even know what time it was.

  Glancing to my side, I spotted a single red rose at the base of my lamp. Next to it lay an ornate golden flask with an envelope leaning against it, my name handwritten in script on its front.

  I moved, relieved I was no longer paralyzed, but my body was still frail and quivering. Pushing myself to a sitting position, I reached for the envelope, my feeble fingers scarcely able to grasp it.

  The back was sealed with crimson wax, impressed with a decorative crest of a shield, a sword and dragon. I snapped the seal in half and slipped out the piece of parchment.

  Then it struck me. That familiar and indescribable scent of earth and wind and spice. I brought it to my nose and inhaled—that perfect blend.

  My fingers trembled as I carefully unfolded the note and held it toward the light. The message was penned in the most exquisite handwriting—script with decorative swirls and curves—looking more like art than a letter. I inhaled again and began to read.

  Dearest Calla,

  I must apologize for not properly introducing myself at your celebration, but time was my adversary. I realize you have many questions, and I vow to answer them in greater detail when we meet again. First, I must apologize for the bite, but let me explain.

  My name is Trystan Vladu. I am a representative of one of the seven vampire clans on this continent. Your grandfather, Nicolae Corvus, was born a Dhampyr—a half-breed—or at least we are led to believe this. There isn’t enough information on him, but we were advised, through a recent decree, that he has been charged with the murder of a Prince of Morbeth. We are unsure if this is a fact, but as of now, your entire family has been marked and is in grave danger. They’ve dispatched hunters to come for you, and their orders are for the arrest and execution—the complete elimination—of Nicolae’s entire bloodline.

  I realize this sounds like lunacy, but I am urging you to trust me.

  Representatives of our clan have produced names of your family members and an address of where you reside. As soon as I saw your name, I felt a profound connection—like nothing I’d ever felt before. I knew I had to save you.

  The only way I could, with such limited time restraint, was to claim you.

  When I bit you, part of my essence was delivered into you. It’s what started your transformation. For the past three days, your mortal body was dying, and like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, you’ve been reborn and given an immortal body. Another attempt to keep you alive.

  The liquid in the flask contains my blood. If you consume it, our blood bond will be secured, and the rival clan cannot touch you. Any attempts to harm the bonded of a pureblood will immediately dissolve the centuries-old treaty between kingdoms, and war will swiftly befall them.

  But I am allowing you the option.

  If you choose me, I will make certain you and your household will be protected and well-tended to for the rest of your lives. However, if you do not choose me, I cannot make any assurances.

  Your decision must be made with urgency. The enemy has already been dispatched, and tonight when the moon is full, they will come for you.

  If you choose not to consume from the flask, I beseech you to run. Leave your home as soon as the sun sets and never let the light of day touch your skin. Travel to the Moonlight Tavern, where I will have someone waiting for you, regardless of your decision. They will help answer any questions you have and will take you to a protected location until I can meet with you once again.

  Until then, be safe,

  Trystan Vladu

  My body was trembling. There were two words—you died—that slammed me, causing my adrenaline to pulse with anxiety.

  But I wasn’t dead.

  Was I truly reborn as an immortal like he said? A vampire?

  A wave of panic had me hyperventilating. I sucked air deeply into my lungs, then slowly blew it out, attempting to settle my frazzled nerves.

  Vampire.

  Vampires were fables. Fantasy. They were the ominous creatures who resided between the pages of my novels. Terrifying, evil monsters who fed off mortal blood. They couldn’t likely live in my world. Could they?

  A vision of Trystan’s teeth, his sharp incisors dripping with my blood, warned me otherwise.

  I read the note a few more times, still skeptical. But deep inside, at the back of my mind, was that still small voice saying, “What if it is true?”

  Was my biological grandfather truly a Dhampyr? I’d heard tales of them. Half breeds of mortals and the blood-sucking monsters. It was preposterous. But what if it was real? What if my grandfather was still alive and had murdered someone?

  My parents told me my grandfather had passed before my father was born. If he was still alive, he’d never tried to contact his family to let us know. And now, the bastard had cursed us all to death.

  That was only one of my concerns. The greatest now was . . . how the hell was I supposed to tell my parents? I already knew what would happen if I told them. My parents were well recognized and highly respected in our country of Sartha. They were also rational and analytical. To have a crazed daughter declaring she was a vampire, and that her deceased grandfather was still alive and had murdered a vampire prince, wouldn’t be favorable. That, and the fact we would soon be hunted by the deceased prince’s country. It was outrageous. They’d find a means to keep me quiet.

  Which is why I was grateful they were on a merchant ship, sailing to Hale. For now, I wouldn’t have to explain this crazed situation.

  Would anyone believe I’d been bitten by a vampire who wanted to save me from a rival clan’s execution? Did I believe that inside of the golden flask sitting on my nightstand was Trystan’s blood, and if I drank it, I would be bound to him?

  Maybe it was real. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I was dead, and this was purgatory or even hell. Or perhaps it was all just a dream and I was still caught up in it.

  But the anguish and misery I’d encountered over the previous days were all too real.

  Had it only been three days? It seemed endless.

  The whispers. The fevered hallucinations. The shadowed figure assisting me. The letter.

  The only answer was that Trystan was here.

  Goosebumps prickled my skin as I glanced over to the nightstand where the single red rose and golden flask sat gleaming under the lamplight. The rose was perfect, a deep blood-red with a strong, delightful fragrance.

  I reached for the flask, taking the heavy object in my hand, inspecting it closer. By the weight and the gems set into it, it must have been valuable. In the center of the flask was the same crest as on the wax stamp. The shield was outlined in what looked like diamonds and rubies. A gold sword was faced downward, hilt to tip, and set in silver was an intricate dragon with wings outspread at its center, its tail coiled and pointed at the end. The interior of the shield was polished onyx. I ran my fingers over the exquisite details. This flask alone must have been worth a fortune.

  My fingers quivered as I unscrewed the cap and brought it to my nose. My mouth watered, my pulse raced. My breathing hastened, and the world around me began to whirl. Suddenly, there was an unusual movement inside my mouth. I gasped as my eye teeth elongated, becoming razor sharp. My tongue flicked against one of them, piercing it, causing it to bleed.

  I reached for the small hand mirror in my nightstand drawer and held it in front of me.

  Gods be damned. I had fangs. Fangs!

  These new incisors made it quite apparent I was no longer mortal. I was one of them. A monster. Gods above!

  At least I didn’t look too dreadful. I still looked the same, aside from the dark creases surrounding my eyes. Feeling faint, I set the mirror down. The flask was still clutched securely in my other hand, filled with blood that my entire body craved.

 
; “Trystan.” As soon as I whispered his name, tingles surged through my body.

  I raised the flask to my nose and the potent odor of copper and iron struck me. My hands quivered, and it took everything inside me to hold back the unseen force pressing the flask toward my mouth, demanding me to sip. Every cell inside my body echoed the desire.

  No, my mind hollered. Don’t do it. You’ll be bound forever.

  I hurriedly screwed the cap back on, securing it shut, and set it on the nightstand. My treacherous body was battling with itself to open it back up and take a sip.

  Trystan claimed he was giving me an option, but he lied. When he’d bit me, he sealed my fate, transforming me into something else. Something non-human. Something nightmarish. Something that craved blood.

  From this moment on, I was going to determine what became of my life, whether right or wrong. Alive or dead. It was my decision and mine alone. Right now, I wasn’t going to be bound to anyone. Let alone someone I didn’t even know.

  But those two words kept ringing like a resounding gong in my mind. You died. And Trystan was the cause of my death. But he was also the cause of my rebirth and immortality. If that was even the truth.

  I dragged my feeble and shaking body out of bed and shuffled to a set of clothes folded on my dresser which consisted of black pants, a black tunic, and a black, hooded, knee-length cloak. They were brand new, the material soft. My gut twisted, wondering if Trystan was the one who had put them there.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I hurriedly put on the all-black attire. They’d probably chosen black to help me meld in with the darkness to avoid capture.

  A new pair of black boots were also set next to my dresser. Sliding my feet into them, they were an exact fit. Someone had gone through the trouble of getting everything sized precisely, and not only that, they were the most comfortable footwear I’d ever worn.

  Stepping up to the mirror, I examined myself. The girl staring back was still me, but different. Changed, but not entirely. My skin looked soft and unblemished, but I still looked fatigued.

  My hair was silken, and my golden eyes were considerably pronounced, practically glowing, and everything around me looked more vibrant and intricate than I ever remembered it before.

  I shuffled toward the window in my modest living space. I didn’t even know what time it was. It was around noon because the sun was full and brilliant, spilling in from a split in the curtain.

  Maybe it was my over-inquisitiveness, but I had to know if the sun was my enemy. I gradually drew back a section of the drapery and slipped my hand into the narrow beam of light streaming through the window.

  Nothing.

  Then my skin started bubbling before bursting into flame.

  A terrified scream ripped from my throat as I darted to the washroom and shoved my hand under the spigot. Cool water doused the flames but searing pain and festering charred flesh remained. My skin smoked and hissed under the water, but the pain gradually eased. In a few moments, the pain was totally gone.

  Blood and pieces of charred flesh fell off and washed down the drain as I continued to keep my hand under the flow. When I finally turned off the water and lifted my hand, I gasped, gawking at the entirely new skin. What the hell? There was only one explanation.

  I am a vampire. A gods damned vampire.

  This discovery also brandished a massive red flag. If this was true, then hunters were coming for me and my family. And I only had a few hours to figure out how to get my new vampire ass to safety.

  Would Trystan send someone to the Moonlight Tavern to meet me? As frightening as it seemed, his offer was the only option I had at this moment. There was nowhere I could think of to run, except Brynna’s, and there was no way I was putting her in danger.

  I paced the entire cottage at least a hundred times, waiting for the sun to set, wondering how my world would change once I stepped outside the door. If I could, I would have holed myself up in this cottage and wait it out. But this place was far from a fortress. It was small and easily accessible. And completely destructible. If anybody was coming for me, I would be captured in no time.

  Captured. It sounded so ludicrous, but I wasn’t going to wait here and find out if it was true or not.

  I wanted to take my horse, Shadow, but the thought of leaving him behind, especially at the vulgar Moonlight Tavern, made me ditch that plan.

  Shadow was my non-mortal best friend, a present given to me by my father on my tenth birthday. He was a Friesian, with a sleek black coat, thick mane, and long tail. He was magnificent, powerful yet agile, and extremely careful with me on his back.

  When my parents were abroad on business and I was left alone, Shadow would carry me to secret places on deserted shores where he would graze, and I would spend hours reading and relaxing.

  No, I wouldn’t risk taking him. Shadow was too important to me. The stable boy would take care of him while I was gone. And hopefully this dilemma could be over, and everything would return to normal.

  Wait. Who was I kidding? My life would never be normal again. Good gods, I had fangs and was deathly allergic to the sun.

  From the split in the drapery, I watched the sun’s rays gradually inch across the floor. Tick. Tock. Tick Tock. It seemed like an eternity until it faded altogether.

  As the last trace of light vanished, my apprehension grew. I snatched the pack I’d filled and opened the door. A burst of chilled wind accompanied me as I rushed out into the night. The pack on my back bore a few items: a change of clothes, a couple day’s rations, a bag of gold skrag I’d been saving, and Trystan’s flask. I wasn’t certain why I took the flask, but I’d persuaded myself it was because it was valuable, and I didn’t want it to be stolen.

  Filling my lungs with the icy air was invigorating. My senses were on full alert, and I paused as my eyes adapted to the darkness. Everything around me was alive and humming. The world seemed more appealing—the brilliant hues of fallen leaves, the whispers of wind through the trees, and the earthy aromas of the surrounding landscape. Details I hadn’t recognized before. Beautiful scenery I’d taken for granted.

  Feeling awkwardly slow and weak, I realized I hadn’t eaten in days, and I had a sinking suspicion I knew what my body needed. I’d resisted the thirst as soon as I’d opened the flask, and I knew from this day forward, there would be an endless battle raging inside me.

  All the stories I’d read about vampires weren’t exaggerating. The thirst was real. But the thought of consuming blood made my gut churn.

  After walking the five miles, much quicker than expected, I finally reached the Moonlight Tavern.

  Standing outside the olive, paint-flecked door, I cringed. The heavy smell of urine stung my nostrils and I started to second guess myself. This place was a rowdy pigsty filled with drunken patrons and nightly brawls. A place my parents instructed me to steer far away from. I doubted I’d even get through the front door without anyone noticing me.

  After a cursory glance of the area, I was surprised to find there was no guard. But I supposed they didn’t need one. No youth in their right mind would show up at a place like this. I just hoped that Trystan kept his word and had someone waiting for me.

  Gathering my courage, I stepped up to the door and pushed it open.

  Darkness enveloped the hallway, and the only sign of patronage was the raucous laughter and obscenities thrown from intoxicated men socializing deep in the tavern’s underbelly. After a few shallow breaths, I made my way across the sticky wooden floor. The smell of urine mingled with other vile manly odors smacked me in the face.

  Sneaking past the toilet rooms, I prayed repeatedly to the gods that Trystan remained true to his word. I was placing my complete confidence in him—someone I didn’t even know. And that terrified the crap out of me.

  Building up enough courage, I rounded the corner. Lingering in the shadows, I scoured the room. Wooden tables and chairs were crowded to the brim with drunken men. A few of them had women splayed over their laps. One had h
er skirt dragged up way too high, and a man’s grimy hands receding even further, her hips swaying back and forth across his thigh.

  Was this a brothel?

  What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  I kept tight to the wall, trying to stay concealed along the dark edges, searching the inside to find someone, anyone, who looked respectable enough to be my rescuer. And it didn’t take long to discover him. A young man sitting at the bar, well-suited and handsome, looked quite out of place. He twisted to me and smiled, so I took that as a signal and promptly made my way over, sitting on the vacant stool beside him.

  “Hey,” I greeted, anticipating he would immediately get us the hell out of here.

  “W-what brings you to this pigsty, lovely?” His speech was slurred, his eyes bloodshot and droopy.

  My conscience waved a massive red flag before smacking it upside my head. Good gods. This guy was not my contact. And now I’d opened myself up to the rest of the drunken riffraff. I could practically feel their lustful eyes raking down my back.

  “I’m meeting someone,” I returned.

  The barkeeper, a towering man with a bald head and tattoos running down his neck and arms, paused in front of me. “Aren’t you a little young to be in here, darlin’?” he asked. “I could get in a lot of trouble serving alcohol to a youth.”

  “I’m not here for drinks. I’m here to meet someone,” I reiterated, trying to suppress my inner trembling. Gods be damned. What was I supposed to do now?

  “Who would ask you to meet them in a shithole like this?” the barkeeper queried, shaking his head.

  “I don’t know,” I sighed. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  He produced a half-witted grin, shrugged, then grunted at a man a few stools down, who was pounding his empty glass on the counter, demanding another brew.