The Vampire's Daughter

by Leigh Anderson

  "I have not the means to fight the devil himself," the priest continued. "I have been patiently waiting on God to take matters into His own hands and cleanse this ungodly place, but I'll not sacrifice your eternal soul while waiting on the Almighty One. She is a curse upon you. A female evil. She wishes to win you over to hell, to tempt the angels from your side; she would corrupt your saint to be a devil, wooing your purity with her foul pride. She is the harlot who subsists on the blood of the saints and the martyrs of Jesus!"

  "Silence!" Ethan yelled as he stood in the open doorway of the church. He did not wish to stay and listen to the Father James's baseless accusations any longer, but he could not insult a man of God. He looked out at the full moon and silently cursed to himself.

  Darkness surrounded the village now. There were a few public torches lit, and the moon was bright enough that Ethan could see the town clearly. A few stragglers were rushing to finish their chores and get inside the safety of their homes. The blacksmith was closing and latching the doors to his stable. Sara was carrying one last load of firewood toward the tavern. Another man was feeding his pigs. A little girl stood in a doorway calling her kitten. Some men who had a few too many drinks at the tavern yelled boisterous goodbyes as they made their ways to the old bachelor's house or to their families.

  Ethan was about to say a final good evening to the priest when he heard a blood-curdling scream and a door slam from the northern end of town. All the townspeople froze in petrified fear as they turned toward the sound. The normal sounds of evening silenced, as everyone waited with baited breath. Suddenly a very close howl broke the quiet. Gasps of fear followed, but no one dared to move. Ethan watched with horror as out of the shadows between two houses, a large, black wolf appeared. It took slow, deliberate steps into the village. Behind it, two more beasts appeared. Across the main street, another wolf slinked out of the darkness. Ethan's breath stopped as another wolf appeared just to the left of the church. The people were surrounded.

  Sara trembled from head to foot and sweat poured from her forehead. She finally could take no more. She dropped her kindling and made a mad dash for the tavern. One of the wolves saw her and gave immediate chase. She slipped on the snowy, wet stairs but managed to crawl inside and force the door shut just as the beast slammed into it. The rest of the people saw Sara's distracting victory as their cue to run. In a sudden and simultaneous outburst of screams, the people fled for their lives. Ethan and Father James shut and barred the door to the church and made their way to the basement for fear the creatures would try to enter the building through the tall windows. Screams and pleadings entered Ethan's ears, and he felt the urge to try and help.

  Ethan scrambled around and found an old arquebus and some shots. The rusty firearm had not been used for several decades, a holdover from when the beasts of the night stalked the village woods more regularly. Ethan ran back to Father James's side and tried loading the gun, but his anxiety made him drop the small iron balls on the floor. He stooped down to pick them up.

  "It does not matter, Ethan," Father James said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Regular bullets will not kill these wolves." The priest sank to the floor and prayed for delivery from the nightmare and an early sunrise.

  The next day, the sun rose high and warm. It was only after the birds chirped with a sense of brightness that a few brave souls dared enter into the light to see what destruction the wolves had left behind. In the morning light, the wolves were undoubtedly gone; it was only the fear that gripped the villagers that lingered. Ethan and Father James exited their fortress and stepped through the broken glass on the floor from the stained-glass windows the wolves had crashed through with ease. Ethan lifted the blockade from the door and opened it. Blood, fur, and feathers littered the white snow throughout the village. Many animals were not accounted for from the small pens around town. Father James immediately set forth to account for all his parishioners and see who needed assistance. A few homes and the tavern had also been broken into. Most of the people simply walked in a daze, taking in the shocking images, trying to understand what had happened.

  Ethan immediately set to work repairing the damage. The windows needed to be boarded up should the wolves return. He walked around the back of the building toward a shed where the tools were kept. When Ethan saw that the door to the old shed was open, he paused. He approached it cautiously even though he believed the wolves only took shape at night. Just inside the door, he found a horrific sight. One of the lumbermen had tried to seek shelter in the small building but had not been quick enough to shut the door behind him. His face was almost unrecognizable; his nose and mouth had been replaced with bloody bulges. His fingers had been chewed off. But it was the spilled entrails that caused Ethan to stumble out of the shed and vomit beside the building.

  "Ethan! Ethan!" Father James called, running around the building. "Mr. Stanek is missing! Everyone else is accounted for. Do you think he could be hiding somewhere? Let us pray he is safe! We need to get a search party organized." The priest was talking so fast he could barely breathe.

  "I don't think there will be a need for that," Ethan said, standing up straight.

  The priest saw the hopelessness on Ethan's face and walked toward the building. "Oh," he groaned. "Oh, no. Don't tell me…" he mumbled.

  Ethan stopped him before he could see the appalling scene. Ethan placed his arm about the old man and led him back toward the center of town. A large crowd was gathering as everyone shared their own tales of how they survived the night.

  One woman saw the weeping priest approach and hysterically began weeping herself. "Oh, God!" she screamed. "They got someone, didn't they? Oh, may God help us!" Chaotic weeping and pleading filled the air.

  "Please, everyone. Calm down!" Ethan called out, but his voice was drowned out by the cries. "There is no reason to panic." No one listened to him.

  Only the priest standing next to him heard him. He stopped crying and simply raised his right hand. The people saw him and became silent.

  "My children," he began, "we have been through a horrible ordeal. Most of us have survived. We should bow our heads and thank God that we were spared…" he lowered his head as if to begin a prayer. "…this time, at least," he finished.

  The people looked at one another and murmured as to what he meant. He looked at the people and at Ethan. He pulled away from the boy and walked toward his battered church, leaving his frightened people to their own thoughts.

  Off in the distance, on a hill overlooking the village, a tall, broad man named Xavier and the rest of his pack watched the broken village with glee. His keen ears could hear the lack of faith in the words of the man of God.

  "Serena," Xavier called to one of the women in the group. "Take a message to Jessenda. Tell her the job is done and that I hope she makes good on her promise very soon. Tell her this letter is for Vincent," he said, handing her a rolled up scroll.

  "Yes, my lord," Serena said as she started walking toward Vladimir Castle.

  "Come, let us go home," Xavier said. He then led the pack to the deep layers of their den below a hidden castle in the southern forest hills.

  5

  By Wednesday, the clouds had returned, darkening the sun in the sky. Victoria seized the opportunity to get out of the castle. She had not gotten out of bed on Monday, and she had not left her room on Tuesday. She did not want to see anyone. Vincent had left his daughter alone. He suspected there was something on her mind more than her fight with Tessa, but he did not bother her about it.

  Victoria tried to dress herself for her outing but could not, so she reluctantly called for someone to help her. She did not know who had taken over Tessa's duties and was relieved when she saw Helena appear in her doorway. Helena was the youngest of Vincent's women and seemed to be more kind and personable than the others. Helena was the only one who would cook for Victoria and had been the one doing it as long as Victoria had eaten solid food. Helena always put far more care into her food than simply throwing
something on a plate. If Victoria asked for something special, Helena made it without complaining. If Victoria asked for a change to be made – more salt, less pepper, not so spicy – Helena did it. In spite of this friendliness, though, Victoria did not really like or trust any of Vincent's women.

  "Is my father awake?" Victoria asked as Helena helped her.

  "No, Miss. He and Lucia retired early this morning."

  Victoria groaned at the thought of her father sharing a bed with Lucia – the same bed he shared with the other women, the one he had once shared with her mother. She did not understand how he could live his life that way; it disgusted her. She loved her father and respected his right to privacy, but the depraved way her father lived made her desire the more holy way she would soon live with Ethan. She had no real reason to go to town except to see him. She missed him so much. She wanted to see the rest of the little house she would soon call home. She wanted to kiss him. She missed the gentle way he held her small frame against his strong body. Additionally, she still needed to go to confession.

  "Anything else, Miss?" Helena's question awoke her from her thoughts.

  "What? No. Thank you," she stammered. "Oh, just when you see him, tell him I wished him a good day and that I won't be out late."

  "Very good, Miss," Helena said, as she dismissed herself and went to find Jessenda.

  Helena found Jessenda talking to someone in a dark room in the far northwest wing. The woman's yellow, dog-shaped eyes glowed and gave Helena the chills.

  "Very well, be gone," Jessenda ordered the guest.

  "Leech," Serena growled at Jessenda as she walked to the door.

  "Mongrel," Jessenda hissed back.

  The two stared at each other for a moment before Serena finally tossed her head and walked out the door.

  "You should not have her here. Master will be able to smell her a mile away," Helena warned.

  "She was here to deliver a message for Master," Jessenda said, showing Helena the wax-sealed letter.

  "What does it say?" Helena asked.

  "I don't know," Jessenda answered, "but it can't be good. If Xavier double-crosses me, he will surely come to know the full extent of my wrath."

  Helena sighed in disapproval. "I came to tell you that Victoria is headed to town this morning."

  "Excellent," Jessenda said. "Perhaps we won't have to wait as long as we thought to be rid of that little pest."

  "You are a fool," Helena said. "You are going to get us all killed. How can you be so sure the humans are going to do as you predict?"

  "Because they are just that – human," she said. "Humans are ruled by emotion. They are creatures of habit. If sacrificing a virgin stopped the wolves before, it will stop them again."

  "Are we sure she is a virgin?" Helena asked. "You know what marks Tessa saw on her neck."

  "It doesn't really matter if she is or not. What matters is that the people blame her for the attack on the village." Helena looked away from Jessenda. "Why do you doubt me? Is it better for Vincent to be influenced by Xavier or me? Right now, the successful breeding techniques of the lycan are what will be the end of our race."

  Helena sighed again. "I guess," she said.

  Jessenda reached out and put a kind hand on her shoulder. "Trust me."

  "I wish I could," Helena replied as she shrugged off Jessenda's hand and walked away.

  Victoria and Gregory rode toward the village at a steady pace. She was looking forward to seeing Ethan, and Gregory was glad to be out of the barn. As she got close to the village, she could sense something was wrong. She could hear the faint sound of a woman crying. Sorrow seemed to hang in the air. As she got closer, she could see a few people moving about quickly and quietly. Some were boarding up their windows; others were reinforcing their animal enclosures. Riding through the town, the usually cold people looked at her with disgust. In one house, she saw a little child pointing at her until the mother came up to close the drapes. A group of older women gathering firewood stopped and mumbled as she got closer. She dismounted at the blacksmith's and greeted the man with a smile, but he did not repay her in kind.

  "Thank you for watching Gregory for me for a few hours, sir," she said as she tied him in his usual stall.

  "No need to thank me," he replied as he untied the horse and gave her back the reigns.

  "Why?" she prodded, confused.

  "You should not be here," was all he said as he headed inside.

  She led her horse back out into the street and looked around. There was hardly anyone about. A few prying eyes watched her from the houses.

  "I have just as much right to be here as any of you," she thought to herself as she held her head up high. She felt herself getting mad, but she wasn't sure why. Why were the people staring and pointing at her? Why would the blacksmith say she didn't belong there? What had she done to any of them? She decided to go to her future home and see if Ethan was there.

  She tied her horse to the hitching post at the end of the walk. She approached the house and ran her fingers through what looked like claw marks on the oak front door. She did not remember seeing them there before.

  "Hello?" she called inside as she opened the door. A small fire was going in the fireplace, telling her Ethan had been there and most likely would return. She felt herself calm down and her anger at the people melt away. The room was warm and safe. She closed the door and looked around the cottage. It already looked so homey, fully furnished with curtains on the windows and rugs on the floors.

  She ascended the wooden steps to the second floor and opened the first door to a room on the left. It was small with equally small furniture – most likely a child's room. She imagined that one day, her and Ethan's children would be playing on that floor looking up at her with wide-eyed wonderment. Then their eyes reflected fear, and she thought of how the townspeople reacted to her today and how, even now, she was an outcast. She sighed, frowned, and shut the door on the frightened children she imagined were there.

  She opened a door on her right and found the master bedroom. She entered the room, took off her cape, and hung it on a hook by the door. She walked over and placed her small hand on the large pine spindles of the bed. She walked to the far side of the bed, running her fingers over the covers. A multi-colored crotched blanket overlaid a beautiful pink and ecru quilt. She folded the blanket back so it only covered the foot of the bed and the quilt could be more fully seen. The quilt was so soft to the touch. She bent down and put her cheek to the fabric. She sighed in delight. She looked at the door and listened to see if anyone was there. When she only heard silence, she took off her shoes, climbed up onto the bed and laid long ways across it. It was a large bed. She stretched her hands way above her head and still could barely touch the other end. She laughed at herself and how she found such delight in such a simple thing.

  "What are you doing?" a voice asked.

  "Ahh!" she screamed as she sat up straight and turned toward the voice. "Ethan! You startled me!"

  "I startled you?" he asked. "What are you doing in my house?"

  "Your house?" she asked. "I thought this was our house."

  Ethan began to laugh as he put the wooden club he was carrying by the door. "You should see yourself," he said. "Why were you so afraid? I did not mean to scare you."

  "I do not know," she replied, settling herself down. "Everyone was just acting so strange when I got here. I guess I am just on edge..." she trailed off, noticing the club. "What is that for?"

  "Do not worry about that," he said, taking off his coat and sitting on the other side of the bed. "Everyone is a little nervous. Some wolves came into town on Sunday night and killed a man."

  "Oh, my goodness," Victoria said, putting her hand to her mouth. "That is awful. Who was it?"

  "Mr. Stanek," he said. "We just had the funeral this morning,"

  "I am sorry I missed it," she lamented.

  "It's all right; you had no way of knowing about it."

  "Still, I feel awful." Sh
e laid back and placed her head on one of the pillows.

  Ethan looked at the sorrow on her face. He knew Father James was wrong about her. She cared and felt deeply for every person.

  "Wait!" she said, sitting straight up again. "You said 'wolves' as in many of them? Is that what clawed the front door?" she asked.

  "Yes," he said. "There were five by my count, but some people saw more."

  "A whole pack attacked the town?" she asked. "That is like something out of an old legend, back when werewolves ruled the woods at night."

  "I know," Ethan said. "The whole town is worried about the next full moon. Everyone is boarding up their windows and reinforcing their doors. I'm sure they are overreacting, though. Werewolves. How silly. They were just normal wolves. This cold weather probably has them desperate for food."

  "You actually saw them?" she asked. "My God, are you all right? You were not injured, were you?" She crawled over to him and put her hand on his face.

  "No, no, I'm fine," he said, chuckling over the fuss she was making. He liked how much she cared for him. "I'm fine," he whispered, looking at her beautiful face. His face turned stone serious and he exhaled slowly.

  She could tell by the way he was looking at her that he wanted something. He turned his body to face her, reached up and pulled her toward him. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her. He stood up to kick off his shoes. She lay on the bed with her head on a pillow. He crawled up next to her and just looked at her for a moment. She pulled her feet up under her gown in a fetal position and put her hands under her cheek on the pillow. Ethan reached over and took the pins out of her hair, letting it frame her face. She looked so innocent, so pure. Her white skin was flawless and her dark eyes were glossy. She was not evil. If anything she was godly, angelic. He leaned over to kiss her, but she pulled back.

  "Ethan," she said. "Do you…would you mind if…maybe we…" She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but she needed to ask him something.