Just Ink Press, LLC
A Just Ink Press novel
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or were used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Just Ink Press, LLC
1016 S Roosevelt Street
Tempe, AZ 85281
The Dracove
(formerly “The Vampyre Prophecy”)
Copyright 2012 by N.L. Gervasio
Original Copyright 1998 by N.L. Gervasio
Edited by R.C. Murphy
Original Cover Art by N.L. Gervasio
Photoshop Cover Art by Lori Lasswell
Cover design and interior images by N.L. Gervasio
All rights are reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First electronic publication: December 2012
For information, address:
Just Ink Press, LLC
[email protected]
www.justinkpress.com
Author’s Note
Dear Readers,
I wrote this book 13 years ago. It took me six months to write it, and I spent the next seven years editing. However, I never had someone else edit it until now, and the book I produced all those years ago ended up being 160,000 words. That’s close to 500 pages in print. I published the book under the title “The Vampyre Prophecy,” which I never have liked. You can still see it on Amazon. You may even be able to purchase a copy, but since I retired/unpublished the book a few years ago, not one cent would come to me and Amazon won’t remove it or “Gemini.”
I revamped (pun intended) this book because now that I’m an editor, I saw all of the issues within its pages. And boy, were there a lot of issues. In fact, I may have even missed some. I think my eyes crossed several times in attempting to rework the book that took forever, and then I sent it to R.C. Murphy so her eyes could cross too. She did a spectacular job, and I can finally say that I am pleased with the result of what you’re about to read.
The original book was split into two books: “The Dracove” and “Gods & Vampyres.” This first book builds the series of which there will be at least four books. It introduces you to a lot of characters who will become important in later books.
I love this story line, and it’s the main reason I reworked it so diligently over the past several months. I wanted to share Kylie’s and Grant’s story with you again with hopes that it flows much better than it did before.
So I thank you for looking at the sample, and I thank you for purchasing “The Dracove” and hope you enjoy it.
Sincerely,
NL “Jinxie” Gervasio
Glossary
My affinity for the bizarre and/or old world names and languages has prompted me to add this guide for you with an apology because I know some of the words are difficult. I hope you find the guide useful, though I must admit I may not have covered all of the words you might find within the pages of this novel. If it’s not listed here, I don’t know how to pronounce it. Meanings are listed as well because generally, if I give a character a specific name, there’s a reason for it. That, and not many people know Gaelic.
Names
Cearbhall (CAR-vil) - meaning is “fierce warrior”
Cianán (Key-NAWN) - meaning is “ancient”
Pádraig (PAW-drig) - version of Patrick, meaning is “noble”
Ruairc or O’Ruairc (ROORKE) - original spelling, originally Norse
Siobhán (Sha-VAWN) – meaning is “Gift of God”
Celtic/Gaelic/Irish
Éire (Air-uh) - an ancient name for Ireland
Mar sin é (mar-shin-ay) - Gaelic term for “Is that so?”
Muise (Mweh-sha) - Gaelic term for “Indeed!”
Latin
Ami - Latin for sister or girl-friend
Japanese
Ni (nee) – Japanese for the number two
Other
Dracove (drah-cMve) – created word for the blood vampyres
Dasulmavre (dah-sool-marv) – created word for the gods
Mahlon (May-luhn) – no special meaning that I know of, I just liked the name.
Shepirah (sha-peer-ah) – no meaning, but based on Chephirah, a biblical city.
Tobak (toe-bah-k) – name of Kylie’s wolf
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
About the Author
Special Preview
Dedication
Acknowledgments
31 October 1406 A.D., Ireland
Siobhán O’Ruairc ran down the castle corridor with the monster’s footsteps trailing close behind. Each step increased in speed upon hitting the cold stone floor, echoing down the rock hall. When the noise dissipated, shadows crept across the walls, taunting her, changing in shape and size. The candle flames flickered from the passing gust. Outside, the wind howled. The monster’s growls blended with the tempest. Every time she had a chance to look back, lurking shadows were all she could see. She scurried down the dim hall, her long auburn hair streaming behind her along with her robes. Her frail hands clutched at stone walls for a better grip around the tight corners.
A crash in the short distance behind her had her running faster, but no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t get away from the monster chasing her.
Just your imagination was what Cianán told her, but she knew otherwise. She cursed him and rounded yet another corner. She knew the monster from her nightmares was real.
She fled deeper into the labyrinthine castle, unable to escape the horror behind her, and entered a familiar hall—the Ulster corridor. Her love named the wings after the five provinces of Éire. She came upon a door in the long hallway and slammed it shut behind her, locking the solid oak into place. She fumbled to pull out the key and it fell from her fingertips. Her breath caught in her throat when the key clanged against the stone and bounced, landing on the rug. Siobhán stood frozen, staring at the iron key.
She snapped out of her trance, remembering why she ran into the room.
If memory served, there was another door in the room that would take her to the lower part of the castle, which was filled with secret tunnels. She could sneak out to the stables and find help, or perhaps outrun the beast on horseback.
A quiet sigh of relief passed her lips when she turned to find the door. She sprinted toward it. Thumbing the latch, she opened the door and stared inside at the wall. Siobhán ran her fingers all around the back wall of the closet, but could find no trigger. Tears trickled down her face when she realized she was in the wrong room. If she’d only gone down to the next room.
She stopped breathing when the latch jiggled on the door behind her,
hoping the monster would move on. She stared across the expanse of the bedroom, the full moon hanging low in the velvet sky casting enough light to see the details in the hand-woven rug on the floor.
The latch stopped jiggling and footsteps retreated down the hall. Standing still for a moment longer to gather her thoughts and let the creature move farther away, she looked around the room to see if there was another way out without running into the monster again. She certainly couldn’t wait in the room; it would eventually figure out where she hid. Three floors up prevented her from using the window.
A thunderous crash echoed from elsewhere in the castle. She sobbed quietly and knelt beside the bed, not knowing what she could do. The glimmer of hope she had left in her heart faded a little more.
Siobhán opened her tear-filled eyes. Moonlight glinted off the key on the floor. The glimmer sparked, reigniting her hope for yet another attempt to survive the wretched night. Perhaps she had enough time to make it to the other room.
If only her valiant love were still alive; he would have saved her by—
She screamed.
A large splinter pierced her arm when the oak door exploded, sending wooden shards throughout the room. She stared at the shadow in the doorway, eyes wide, cupping her hand over the wound and crying silently. He stepped forward. The moonlight briefly revealed his identity. She closed her mouth, swallowed, and opened her mouth again, as if to say his name. The light touched his face once more, unveiling something new this time, something unrecognizable, save for one thing—the kind of smile that twisted, allowing every wrinkle to reveal the evil within. She slowly stood, trembling with fear and clutching the bedspread. He advanced on her.
Stopping in the center of the room, he slowly shook his head back and forth. His long black hair moved against his shoulders.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He smiled and lunged forward.
She lurched away from the bed, pulling the heavy bedspread with her. He crashed into the bedside table, shattering it, and fought to untangle himself from the quilt. She fled the room and ran down the corridor.
Finally out of the labyrinth, she reached the top of the stairs and ran down three stories. The toe of her slipper caught a loop on the large rug at the base of the gigantic stairwell, and she fell forward. Instinctually, her arms shot out in front of her to absorb the shock of the fall; however, her face still hit the rug covering the hard stone floor. The locket she wore fell from around her neck, unlatching from the mishap.
The foyer filled with the reverberated sounds of his growls.
She crawled to her hands and knees, ignoring the pain of her cut lip, and looked behind her, up the enormous stairwell to see where he was. All she could see were those damned shadows jumping from one side of the stairwell to the other.
Always the shadows, whispering from the darkness. She’d never seen anything else until just a few moments ago.
Her lip bled and started to swell; the coppery taste hit her tongue when she inspected it in a swift lick.
Siobhán untangled her foot and stood, pulling up the front of her long gown so she could run toward the massive oak door leading to her freedom. Seizing the large cold iron handle with one hand, she pulled on it, but the door refused to open. She wrapped her other hand around the iron and tugged franticly. With a silent scream, she tugged relentlessly against the hard wood, wanting more than anything to let the scream out, but the monster would hear. Giving up hope of ever escaping, she sobbed, the side of her face pressed against the door, her eyes staring at the latch. She blinked and focused her eyes on the latch, took the handle again, and forced the bolt back with her other hand.
His breath hit her cheek, and she knew the chase was over. He pushed the hair away from the nape of her neck, and she shivered.
“Go on, run some more, pretty, pretty, Siobhán. I’m rather enjoying this.” His voice was as cold as the winds of winter whispering against her flesh. He slammed his hand beside her head and ran it down the door, scratching the hard wood with his nails. It splintered into needle-like fragments.
Startled, she turned her head until her eyes met his pale face. His wicked grin, the evil in his face, taunted her. Strange light danced beyond the iris of his white eyes, mesmerizing her with its lightning show.
He moved his hand slowly toward her face, his nails lightly touching her cheek. His touch was as frigid as his voice. His glacial skin made her shudder, as though Death himself touched her skin.
His fingers curled into a fist under her injured lip. The blood drop shifted onto his skin, slowly rolling down the back of his hand. He watched with fascination, and tilted his hand to keep the drop from going much farther. He raised the blood to his own lips, closed his eyes, and rolled out his tongue.
“Listen to that beautiful melody.” He leaned forward, licking his lips. “Soon the music will stop.”
He ran his tongue over his lips and teeth, preparing them for a feast, and Siobhán couldn’t stop staring at his fangs. When he closed his eyes, she took the opportunity to run once more. He laughed in the midst of her dash across the foyer. She ran toward the nearest hall. He lunged for her in one giant leap across the grand entrance before she could reach her destination.
When he grabbed her arm, his sharp nails seared her soft flesh. She spun around and screamed, slapped his face. He only laughed, the sting wearing off quickly with a shake of his head, and he grabbed her arm before she could swing again.
“This has been interesting, but I’m done playing now, Siobhán.” He growled and forced her face close to his.
She gasped.
His tongue flicked out to catch the blood remaining on her lip. He laughed at her struggles.
“Why?” She fell to her knees, succumbing to his incredible strength.
“I’ll not let him have ye!”
“Who, my lord?” She neither understood how he knew her name, nor whom he spoke of.
But he withheld his answer from her and knelt beside her.
She struggled to break free. Fear took over once again, but he pinned both of her arms behind her, putting an end to her last attempt to flee.
He looked into her frightened eyes and whispered, “Do not fight me, Siobhán. It’ll be less painful for ye.”
She gasped when he cut into her neck with his sharp fingernail. His strong arms held her down to keep her still . . . and her lifeblood drained onto the floor.
Siobhán felt her life fading away. She gasped again, trying to hold on to each waning breath. She wasn’t ready to die. But the thought of her love drifted through her mind. A faint smile spread across her once ruby lips. Perhaps she would be with him now. That was all she wished for over the last three years.
But the face this monster appeared to have before attacking her in the room upstairs . . . a face she knew so well. One she trusted more than any other.
With her last bit of life still lingering, she opened her eyes wide and stared at the monster that looked like him. “Please,” she whispered. “Gra—”
The locket on the floor nearby flickered.
The monster dropped Siobhán’s lifeless frame and raised its head. Looking away from her, he saw movement in the air near the study. He analyzed and recognized the swirling interference. A time portal; one used by a porter. The monster knew of them because he was also a porter. Someone had been watching. He wondered if the porter had come through and was in the castle. Could it be Moroc? The monster stood and walked toward the interference, but stopped halfway across the room, studying carefully. The portal wasn’t Moroc’s; his had a certain appearance about it. All red and fire and smoke, but once one peered inside, they’d be dragged down into the depths of Hell.
“Who trespasses here?” The echo of his voice reverberated off the stone walls.
He stepped directly in front of the portal, leering into it.
What he saw he couldn’t comprehend.
He looked back at Siobhán and to the portal once more. Realization dawned. His lips drew back in a sne
er.
“I’ll be coming for you.”
He vaulted toward the portal. A loud screech sounded behind him, stopping him just short of the temporal window with a power that even he didn’t hold in his vast array of knowledge.
A woman screamed.
Then everything vanished.
* * * * *
Present day
Grant bolted upright in bed, woken by the nightmare drifting through his mind. He scanned the bare walls of the bedroom with wide eyes, surveying each corner with its stacks of unpacked boxes marked Master. He should have used a different word to describe the contents of the packages and their destination. He certainly didn’t need a reminder of the man he hated. As the beginning of daylight seeped through the small cracks of the shades, he flopped back down on the bed, dismissing the dream.
Staring at the ceiling, mumbling incoherent words, the dream crept its way back into his thoughts. He tried to decipher the reasoning behind the timing of the dream. It had been so long.
“Siobhán,” he whispered.
His normal memories with her weren’t present. Not the day they met, or one of many picnics on the hillside. Not of dancing, with her auburn hair reflecting brilliantly in the sunshine. This dream was about the night she died. But instead of just finding her dead upon his arrival, the dream showed him what came before.
He sighed heavily. “My mind will never let me forget.”
He rolled over and buried his head under a pillow, desperately trying to push the image of holding her cold, dead body in his arms from his mind.
Forgive me for taking so long. I will honor you. I swear it. His promise came in ancient words. He had no other choice if he wished to rid himself of the nightmare.
He had to find her killer.
The Dracove (The Prophecy series) Page 1