A Vampyre's Daughter

by Jeff Schanz

  She exhaled in preparation for something. “Alright, then. Are you ready?”

  Brandt didn’t want any more questions. His nerves were on edge. “Ready for what?”

  She said nothing more, just smiled and touched his cheek as she walked back to her body on the table. She reached her projection face to her real face and suddenly projection Lia was gone in a wisp of smoke.

  For several pregnant seconds, nothing happened. Then the real Lia opened her eyes, gasping and coughing.

  And breathing.

  She’s breathing! Brandt ran to her and unhooked her bonds. She fell forward into his arms. Her chest was heaving and she coughed again. Cold perspiration coated her skin, beading on her face. Despite the wet strands of hair that hung across her face, and the purple circles around her eyes, and the line of plastic tubing extending from her neck with blood coursing through it, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. She coughed again.

  “Lia! Baby, you’re back!”

  She tried to nod, but it caused another cough. Every wheezing breath was strained. He held her limp body in his arms and cradled her head against his shoulder. She lifted a hand to touch his head and then let it drop. He could feel the strong pulse in her neck. Her heart hammered against his chest.

  “I’m here,” he said, stroking her damp hair. “I’ve got you.”

  “Home,” she said hoarsely.

  “Yes. I’ll take you home,” he said.

  CHAPTER 35

  The late afternoon sun touched its radiant fingers to the sea horizon, lighting the distant wave tops with a golden glow. The island’s clear silhouette was disrupted by the small, winged forms of seabirds circling in a frenzied pattern. Dark, bullet-shaped heads of sea lions briefly bobbed on the water’s surface, appearing and disappearing like a carnival game. A pod of dolphins surfed on the wake of a sleek 38-foot Chris Craft, which split the oncoming waves like an arrow through smoke. The boat was heading for the island.

  Brandt sat in the plush pilot’s chair. He squinted at the intense orange sun directly in front of him, though he wore sunglasses. His dark blue windbreaker fluttered against his torso, the American flag patch on the sleeve rippling with the wind, almost like it was a real flag. At his feet was a wicker basket with a red and white checkered cloth peeking from under the lid. In a plastic bag, tucked under the wheel console, were two bouquets of flowers.

  The boat slowed and sat down heavily in the surf. Brandt guided it carefully left of the little beach that he knew so well. The inlet into the cavern was just barely deep enough for the boat’s clear passage.

  The Chris Craft was the same launch formerly owned by The Russian. It had been impounded and then sold to Brandt for a price that was as low as possible without being entirely illegal. But Brandt was now known as the man that brought down The Russian, and people bent over backwards for him.

  Immediately after killing Mikhail, Brandt had found a maintenance staff cowering in the lower levels of the yacht. They only ran simple operations on the boat and had been scared to death of Mikhail. They had gladly helped get the yacht to port. Once in port, Brandt had turned it over to the Coast Guard, and from there, every U.S. government and military agency had descended upon it. Brandt was congratulated, grilled, rewarded, and ultimately offered a job. He was even offered a stipend for living arrangements. But all Brandt wanted was the boat to live in. It had a beautiful bedroom with a king-sized bed, kitchen, shower, bar, and his whole house could be driven to and from Makal. His salary kept it supplied and gassed, everything else was icing. His buddy in the U.S. Army Special Division had arranged it, and when he heard what Brandt requested, he laughed and remarked, “A grunt thinks he’s a squiddy now?”

  Brandt throttled up a touch and dug the big boat's nose into the sand next to its neighbor, the little wooden trawler named “Lia.” Brandt threw the anchor on the shore for measure, then hopped out. The basket was carried in one hand and the flowers in the other. He ascended the passage in the rear of the cavern, stepping up the newly erected wooden staircase that led to the surface.

  He walked in the general direction of the house, then stopped at the stone wall that looked out over the cliff. There was a marble headstone erected near the edge of the cliff that would catch the sunset dead on. Brandt walked around to the front of it. The orange sunlight made the inscribing easy to read. Across the top were the words “Viktor Romanovich Zakharyin.” At the bottom were the words, “Loving Father, Husband, and Protector.” In the middle was an orthodox Christian cross. Brandt laid one of the flower bouquets on the ground, then sat down on the stone wall.

  The sun was melted halfway below the edge of the earth, giving the house’s normally white exterior an orange tint. There were no real windows on the front, but Brandt could make out a dim light glowing through the glass that lined the edge of the roof awning. A thick mist had drifted ashore and made the subtle light look mysterious. Faint music drifted to his ears, leaking from somewhere in the house. He listened for a moment to make out the tune. A pretty little blues number played by B.B. King and sung by Van Morrison, called “If You Love Me.” It was one of the records Brandt had bought for Lia in Catalina.

  “That’s my girl,” he said softly.

  From the thickest part of the mist, an animal bounded toward Brandt at full speed. It was a German Shepherd, its tongue lolling as it approached Brandt. It ran headlong into Brandt’s open arms and placed both forepaws on Brandt’s lap.

  “Hey, Buck,” said Brandt. “Hey, boy.”

  He rubbed the dog's ears. The dog whined and shoved his head under Brandt's arms, trying to lift Brandt up. When Brandt got the dog for Lia, she had never named an animal before and left the task to Brandt. Since Lia was such a bibliophile, Brandt figured he'd pick a famous literary dog's name, and the only one he could remember was Buck from The Call of the Wild. Lia liked it just fine and the dog didn’t care as long as someone scratched his ears when his name was called. Brandt petted the dog for another minute and Buck calmed down. He sat at Brandt’s feet and faced the house, waiting.

  Brandt was waiting, too.

  As the top of the sun became nothing more than an orange line, like a highlighter pen drawn on the horizon, the music stopped inside the house. The dog recognized this as did Brandt and Buck closed his mouth and stared intently into the mist.

  A slender figure emerged from the haze, gliding across the ground with her usual grace. Lia was dressed in an elegant white dress with a turtleneck top, no shoulders or sleeves, and a form-fitting skirt whose edge flowed behind her and pulled against her legs. Her golden hair was down, whisked back and forth by the gentle breeze that tugged at it. She wore no hat or gloves. She walked up to Brandt, who was mesmerized by her beauty for a moment and forgot to stand, remembering only at the last minute.

  Lia halted and crossed her hands across her abdomen. She stood straight and proper, not meeting Brandt’s eyes directly, but glancing in his direction.

  “God, you look beautiful,” said Brandt.

  Lia did not respond.

  “Oh, right.” Brandt did a short bow, cleared his throat, and said, “M’lady. If you’ll permit me.” He produced a small card and held it out to her. She gracefully moved her hand to accept the card, then lifted it and read aloud.

  “Brandt Dekker. U.S. Armed Forces Special Consultant. Ventura, CA.”

  She gave him a regally indifferent, but expectant look. “You retain a salary from this employment?”

  “Yes, M’lady. A small base salary, plus contractual pay for when I’m hired for specific mission consulting. They call me whenever Special Forces, or the Coast Guard, or whoever, needs my expertise or strategy to deal with the cartels that our men might encounter. I meet with everyone from grunts, to four-star generals, admirals, and politicians. I even had to buy a suit, can you believe that?”

  Lia showed no indication she was impressed. Of course, she already knew all this information, but it was all part
of the act. She slid the card into the waistband of her skirt.

  Brandt laid out the red and white checker cloth on the wall. A wine bottle was placed in the middle of it, with two glasses. He gestured for her to sit. She glanced at the display nonchalantly, then sat primly and folded her hands across her lap. Brandt poured from the wine bottle into the glasses. He offered one to her.

  “You are very presumptuous, Mr. Dekker,” she said.

  “I’ve been called worse,” he smirked.

  Lia met his eyes, held the gaze for a moment, tried not to smile, then took one of the glasses.

  Brandt caught a brief glimpse of a little red knot peeking out from her white turtleneck. She’s wearing her bathing suit under her dress? He almost commented, but then looked down to notice the edge of her multi-colored leggings barely visible underneath her skirt.

  He started chuckling. Lia noticed where his attention had been drawn and she plucked at her dress to cover the leggings.

  “You live in Ventura, California?” she asked, taking a small sip from her glass.

  “Sort of. I live on my boat. It has a birth in the Ventura marina, and since you said I had to have an address on the card, that’s what I put.”

  Lia shot him an admonishing glance.

  “Right,” he said. “Sorry. Yes, that’s where I live.”

  She nodded and rubbed her dog's ears as she sipped at her glass. “And how are your prospects for the future, Mr. Dekker?”

  Brandt had been coached on what to say, but his roguish mind was fighting against it. There was so much he wanted to say to this beautiful vision sitting next to him in the dusky light. And everything she had coached him to say just seemed so inadequate. As he had done so many times before, which seemed to be a character flaw that wasn’t going away anytime soon, he opened his mouth and said what his brain felt like saying instead of what he was supposed to say.

  “M’lady. My beautiful, incredible, wonderful Lia. Life doesn’t let you calculate your future. It takes you on a wild ride of wonder and adventure, and you just hang on as best you can. You may experience sorrow and pain, but you will also experience joy and ecstasy. And when two people find each other, they are so much stronger together to live, love, laugh, and cry through whatever life throws at them. As long as they have each other to hold onto through life’s wonderful ride, until it finally ends, every moment will have been worth it.”

  Lia’s eyes gleamed as she stared deep into Brandt’s pupils. It seemed like she was going to cry, but she blinked rapidly for a moment and no tears came. She turned like she was interested in something near the house, holding the wine glass up and blocking her face with her hand. Turning back to face Brandt, her expression once again became regally indifferent. With only the subtlest of eyebrow lifts, and a nod to Brandt to continue as he was supposed to, she met his eyes again.

  Brandt grimaced and smiled. “Yes, M’lady. I have excellent prospects for the future. I can adequately take care of a lady.”

  “I see. Thank you, Mr. Dekker,” said Lia.

  Brandt glanced at Viktor’s grave. You better appreciate this, big guy.

  “Pardon?” asked Lia, sensing Brandt’s thoughts.

  “Nothing.”

  They both sat for a moment, neither speaking. Lia acted like she was considering something, then said, “I shall agree to your courtship, Mr. Dekker. We may talk now.”

  Brandt’s brows flickered. “We’ve already been talking,” he said, a little lost.

  Lia shot him a half eye roll. In a near whisper, she said, “I have to say that. It’s just part of the custom.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Ok, so what can we talk about, then?”

  Lia shrugged. For a brief moment, she dropped her regal air and answered in her normal tone. “I’m not sure, actually. It was so different long ago, because Vasili and I didn’t really know each other, and…”

  Brandt cleared his throat, making a raspy noise that sounded like the words, “Forget Vasili.”

  Lia lifted her hands to her mouth and shrank from her faux pas, but she recovered quickly and placed them back into her lap. In a return to her formal voice, she said, “The sunset was very beautiful this afternoon. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Dekker?”

  “Everything on this island is beautiful, especially you,” said Brandt.

  Lia lifted the glass again, which this time did not hide her blush and burgeoning smile.

  Brandt said, “The moon will be beautiful, as well. And it is at its most beautiful when seen from the water. I have a boat parked in the lagoon. It’s a big, comfortable, safe boat. I would be honored if you’d accompany me for a moonlight ride.”

  Lia hadn’t completely curbed her smile yet, but she gathered herself. “That sounds delightful Mr. Dekker, but highly irregular. We haven’t even held hands.” She gave him an “I just got caught by my parents, kissing a boy” look, and she was losing her struggle to hold back her amusement.

  Brandt thought for a moment and wondered if they actually ever did technically hold hands. They had done absolutely everything else, and he had caressed and loved every inch of her, but had he held her hand? He couldn’t remember. Probably, but…

  He reached out and grasped her hand. She looked a little reticent, then she shook her head, still smiling, and gripped his hand tightly. They both let go and she placed her hand back on her lap.

  “There, that’s done,” said Brandt. “Can we go?”

  Lia was still playing her game though. “It would still be irregular without a chaperone,” she said.

  “Lia, sweetie, you’re a hundred years old. I think even your father knows you’re old enough to…”

  She shushed him loudly. With an impish grin, she gestured to the dog she was petting. “I would like to bring my chaperone.”

  “Oh. Well, of course, your chaperone is welcome to come.”

  The dog knew it was being talked about and whined for a moment. He turned his head to Brandt for further ear scratching. Brandt obliged.

  Lia said, “Mr. Dekker, I must warn you, I expect you to be a gentleman. I’ve heard scandalous rumors that you seduced a young lady to a remote island and ravaged her there. Multiple times. Most wicked.” She let a lusty grin sneak onto her face.

  Brandt almost laughed. So we’re playing it this way, huh? He got his acting chops back too, and said, “M’lady those are vicious rumors. Totally untrue. The lady seduced me.”

  Lia almost choked as she swallowed her wine. She put the glass down and tried to regain her composure.

  Brandt was feeling his oats, so he continued. “She was an animal, locked me in her room and performed sexual experiments on me, without letting me rest in between. She had her way with me for hours, and left me raw and utterly drained.”

  Lia's lips were sucked so far into her mouth, she might draw blood. Her eyes were squeezed shut, probably trying not to either laugh out loud or hit him. Maybe both.

  Brandt wasn’t quite done. “It was entirely obscene and tawdry. Someone should write a book about it.”

  “Shhh,” said Lia. Her eyes flitted to Viktor’s gravestone, then looked up conspiratorially at Brandt. In a cautious whisper, she said, “I actually did.”

  “Really? Cool! Can I read it?” Brandt tried to whisper too.

  Lia placed her finger to her lips. “Yes, later,” she whispered. She straightened back up and tried to regain her rehearsed character. “Regardless, can I trust you to be a gentleman?”

  Brandt had agreed to this whole charade, and it had served its purpose, but he was done playing the game now. Reality was so much better anyway. He stood and met Lia’s eyes. He looked through her with an intense stare and she shivered for a moment.

  “You can trust me with your life,” he said. He held out his hand, asking her to take it. “Come with me.”

  Lia’s Mona Lisa smirk widened into the kind of radiant smile that had always melted Brandt’s heart and soul. She gently placed her hand in his.


  She said, “I will be delighted to go anywhere with you.”

  THE END