Ofelia (The Book of Davoth 1)

by Martyn Stanley

  Ofelia slept better than she’d slept in centuries. The excitement would have kept her from sleeping at all, but the ritual had taken a toll on her, leaving her tired and drained. In the morning, she was woken by Nancy carrying a tray into her room with cereal, a jug of milk, two rounds of buttered toast and a glass of fresh orange. Ofelia rolled over and sat up in bed. ‘Ah, thanks.’

  Nancy placed the tray down. ‘S’no problem miss. I should warn you, remember those people from the government I told you about? They’re back. They’re waiting downstairs. I told them you didn’t get back until late and you’re tired.’

  Ofelia shrugged. ‘Thanks. I ought to speak to them though. The sooner I talk to them the sooner I can get them off my back. Tell them I’ll be down in ten minutes. Offer them a coffee.’

  ‘Very good miss.’ As Nancy got to the door, she paused and turned back to Ofelia.

  ‘Erm, miss, I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I reckon you’re going to inherit Victor’s house and fortune. If you do, what will you-’

  Ofelia sighed and clicked her spoon down on the tray. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think they let eleven-year-old live on their own, even with servants. Whatever happens though, I try to make sure you guys keep your jobs.’

  Nancy smiled. ‘Thanks. I’ll tell them you’ll be down shortly.’

  ***

  Breakfast finished, Ofelia carried her tray of crumbs downstairs. Victor would have scolded her for not leaving it for the servants, but things would be different now he wasn’t around. As Nancy had warned her, two men in black suits, with black ties, were sitting waiting for her in the library.

  The closest, a balding man with a scar running down one side of his face from his forehead to his chin, stood. He offered Ofelia his hand, and she shook it. ‘You must be Ofelia. Please - have a seat.’

  Ofelia sat opposite them on the leather armchair she’d sat on so many times before. ‘Yes, I am Ofelia. What is this about?’

  ‘How well did you know Victor?’

  Ofelia leaned forwards. ‘You’re talking in the past tense. Do they find the body?’

  The man shook his head. ‘No, but Victor was known to us. We were surprised he’d drowned. We didn’t think that was possible.’

  The slightly younger looking man with a mop of shiny black hair chirped in now. ‘How did you meet Victor? How long-’

  ‘I met him just a few weeks ago. I’d come here with my half-brother Stefan? Stefan was killed in a car crash. Victor felt sorry for me, I think. He organized it with my social worker, Rita, so he could adopt me.’

  The men looked at each other, then back to Ofelia. ’Did you know about, ahem...’

  ‘Victor’s condition?’ The older man finished for him.

  Ofelia’s eyes narrowed. They knew. It was the only explanation. ‘He told me something about some blood disorder? But something like a good disorder that makes him age slowly or something?’

  It was a lie, but a lie with a smattering of truth bolted onto it was often harder to refute. The younger man reached for his black leather bag and slipped his hand inside. He pulled it out holding a sealed syringe and a pair of blue nitrile gloves. ‘We’re concerned that Victor’s condition may have been contagious. Would you consent to a blood test to make sure you’re not infected too?’

  Realisation dawned on Ofelia. Victor had groomed some British elites. They’d been promised a chance at immortality. Now they were worried they’d lost their only chance. The ritual had definitely worked. So far as she was aware, she’d expelled every drop of immortal paradox from her body. She rolled the sleeve of her fleece top up and offered her arm. ‘Sure. If you’re worried-’

  The man looked surprised she’d offered this willingly. Something told her refusing could prove impossible. He took the sample, then disposed of his gloves and the syringe into a small plastic container.

  The men stood and left, thanking her on their way out. Did they suspect? It was hard to tell. These were individuals who’d trained themselves to hide their emotions. So far as Ofelia knew, her sample would come back clean. If it didn’t, she suspected she’d hear about it soon enough.

  After the agents had gone, Ofelia went for a walk around the grounds. Everything felt more real. The moment she stepped out the door she felt the winter air biting. As she strolled the manicured lawns, the wind whipped up, chilling her to the bone. It felt good though. She’d forgotten how it felt to feel truly alive. The immortal paradox granted eternal life, but there was a price. It was hard to explain exactly what felt different. She hoped this feeling would never pass. She recalled upon becoming a vampire, her senses had sharpened and she’d felt more aware, but her emotions had been buried.

  When she eventually turned and headed back to the house, she thought about Albrecht, Amicia, Montague and Sergi. She thought about all the places she’d been and things she’d done over the centuries. She started to feel strange. Her eyes started to feel heavy, almost engorged. Then she felt warm water run down her cheeks. She reached up and wiped it away, almost in disbelief. She held out her fingers and stared at them. They were wet. She was crying. She thought about Stefan. It was all too much. A torrent of emotion hit her, and she broke down into uncontrollable sobs. She cried so long and hard that her tear ducts dried up leaving her eyes sore and itchy.

  The crushing sadness did pass eventually. As her sorrow subsided, she felt a new strength. She hadn’t dealt with all this stuff. But she’d started. The immortal paradox had made her cold and unemotional. She’d never appreciated how much so, but now she had warm blood running through her veins again, she knew. She wiped her face with her sleeve, trying to hide the shed tears. Her eyes felt puffy and swollen, but she had to get back. She’d just seen Rita’s black Audi pull up at the house.

  ***

  When Ofelia got back to the house, Rita greeted her looking crestfallen. ‘Oh Ofelia, I’m so sorr-’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Ofelia cut her off, realising that Rita had mistaken her watery eyes and red face as being down to Victor’s demise. ‘Do you want to come in?’

  ‘I’m afraid I need to. You’ve been left without a legal guardian again.’

  Ofelia sighed. She’d been dreading this conversation. It would have been too much to ask for her to have been allowed to live in peace with the servants at Tempest House. She climbed the steps, opened the door and beckoned Rita in. They sat in the library, Rita as usual with her loose-leaf file opened up on her knee. ‘Now, to bring you up to speed... Hang on a minute. How did you get here?’

  Ofelia thought for a moment. Then lied through her teeth. ‘That private school? It wasn’t for me. Victor seemed to want me to stay secret. I was flown back by helicopter a few nights ago. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay.’

  Rita eyed her for a second. There was something different about Ofelia, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. ‘Right, well. Stay you can. It seems Victor had his will well sorted out. Though in effect, he just copied his ancestors’ wills, which are written specifically to pass on all his wealth through a trust system to ensure none of the estate is lost to tax. You’re the only benefactor, so Tempest House is yours, as is Victor’s property portfolio. I know it sounds vulgar to talk about this right now, but I wanted to put your mind at rest. You’re not going to be kicked out.’

  ‘I don’t have to go back to Harper House?’ Ofelia gasped, suddenly relieved.

  Rita avoided eye contact, ‘Well, erm, the thing is you need to have a legal guardian, so-’

  Ofelia grinned and cut in. ‘Hey! Wait, this is my house, right? So if I can get some responsible adults to agree to-’

  ‘Yes, they could move in with you and be your legal guardians. You’d own the house, but they’d be responsible for looking after you. Did you have someone in mind?’

  ‘I think maybe I do. You remember that doctor at the hospital? We became quite friendly, we kept in touch and I am sure she’d agree. Hmmm, she might even...’

  Rita’s eye
s drifted to the floor. ‘Oh…’

  ‘Well, this is big house. I love it here, but I kind of miss Luce, Stoney and Irish. I wonder if Doctor Sterling might-’

  ‘I can look into it,’ muttered Rita, ‘I suppose freeing up three beds at Harper House would be handy.’ Rita leaned closer, ‘And you’re sure this doctor-’

  ‘She owes me a favour. I think she’ll be happy to.’

  Rita smiled now. It seemed things had worked out alright. Though secretly she still hoped somehow Victor hadn’t perished in the crash. It seemed unlikely he’d survived, now - weeks later. She’d never admit it to Ofelia, but she’d secretly dreamed she might call Tempest House home herself if she could have lured Victor away from his bachelor lifestyle.

  Rita stood. ‘I’ll contact the doctor. I’ll let you know once things are sorted. Or if this falls through, I’ll look into some other options.’

  Ofelia grinned. ‘It won’t fall through. Trust me.’

  With that Rita left, the final pieces were falling into place. It seemed Ofelia’s centuries-long vampire story was finally coming to an end.

  Chapter 38 - Epilogue

  In the end Julia and Mike happily moved to Tempest House and fostered Ofelia. They even agreed to take care of Lucy, Kerry and Stoney. Once she’d become mortal again, Ofelia enjoyed a fairly normal if somewhat idyllic childhood. She grew up in a stately home surrounded by good friends. She continued to wow Weston Bank Academy with her piano playing, chess and general cleverness. Imelda tried her luck with Ofelia on more than one occasion, but with Stoney looking out for her, nothing ever happened. In the end Ofelia graduated from Greenwich University with a First Class Honours, Bachelor’s Degree in History.

  ***

  Now it was thirteen years since she’d become mortal. Ofelia and Ollie had remained the closest of friends and had even flirted with the idea of making it more than a friendship. Ollie had become a Maths teacher and Ofelia taught History.

  It was a summer’s day in the middle of the six-week holiday. Ofelia and Ollie, now in their mid-twenties, were walking through the Père-Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. Ollie turned to Ofelia as he walked. ‘Why are we here?’

  She smiled and pointed to an ancient, crumbling gravestone ahead - the inscription was weather worn and faded, but still just about legible. ‘Here.’

  They were in the oldest part of the cemetery. Ollie leaned close and looked at the moss-green stone. ‘Amicia?’

  Ofelia nodded, ‘Amicia Le Moyne, I met her in 1528. We travelled France together, hunting vampires. She got me out of a pickle on more than one occasion. I had other friends before and after, but she was my best friend.’

  Ollie looked at the dates, ‘1517 - 1589? 72? That’s a good age for the sixteenth century.’

  ‘I know. She lived well too. For fifty years we were never far apart. I think maybe, she was the main reason I never had many friends afterwards. Losing people after spending so long together hurt too much.’

  Ollie sighed. ‘Why today? I always wanted to see Paris, but-’

  ‘I always told myself I’d visit her grave at least once before I drink the founder serum.’

  Ollie’s expression froze. ‘Is it time then?’

  ‘We always said once we’d finished University and got jobs. Are you sure you still want to go through with this?’

  Ollie shook his head and gave a deep sigh. ‘My mum’s not well, you know. She’s aged a lot these last four years.’

  Ofelia sighed, ‘I told you-’

  ‘Shhh, Ofelia. I know. I told her, I explained what the immortal paradox could do. She’s completely against it though. She still has her faith, and she believes she’ll see my Nan again in the afterlife one day. I think she sees it as the devil’s work. It’s her choice. I can’t force her. I still want it though. Last winter, when I had that bout of flu, I honestly thought I might die. Knowing I can never feel ill again... I’ll take that. Besides, Julia and Mike seem happy. I doubt their gratitude for you giving them immortality will ever wane.’

  Ofelia shook her head. ‘No, they are nice people. I’m glad I could help them. But now it’s time to help us.’

  She took out two tiny glass phials full of inky black liquid. She handed one to Ollie. ‘Are you ready?’

  He held his up and peered into the darkness. Then he lowered it and dropped it back into his pocket. ‘You know, it’s such a nice day and we still haven’t been up the Eiffel Tower. Why don’t we put it off for one more day? Forever is a long time, and we have all the time in the world.’

  She smiled and took his hand in hers. ‘Okay, we go to the Tower, then we get nice meal. Maybe tomorrow we embrace the dark.’

  He smiled back. ‘Perhaps, or if not there’s always the day after? Besides, having seen Mike turn I think I’d rather drink this in the privacy of a hotel room, than an ancient cemetery.’

  Ofelia nodded, ‘True. Good point.’ and they walked hand in hand out of the cemetery.

  ~Fin

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  Free Sample from ‘Deathsworn Arc 4: Rise of the Archmage’

  Chapter 1

  ~

  Waiting

  Lindie walked through the long grass towards the huge old apple tree, her right hand hanging freely at her side. The tips of the tall blades of grass stroked her fingers as she strode along. Here, she’d shared that first forbidden kiss. Kaya had been here, picking apples when they‘d met. It hadn’t been love at first sight.

  Once their mutual infatuation had grown and they’d realised it, they knew it would be deemed wrong, and that the church and their families would never forgive them. Strangely, as soon as they both accepted their love for each other - everything made sense. Neither of them had previously had romantic relationships. Young men from Hersford, Velth and Cormaroth had pursued them both, but neither girl had experienced the spark of true love. Lindie remembered experiencing that storm of emotion for the first time. That moment, when she’d realised that Kaya wanted her, and she wanted Kaya, was burnt into her memory forever.

  The sun blazed high in the sky, casting shadows about the lone apple tree. Lindie drew closer; something seemed wrong. She rushed past the tree, then strode around it. Kaya was not here, she should have been there. Lindie walked around the tree, many times, peering into the distance. She spotted the smoke rising from Hersford, up on the moors and the distant battlements of the capital - Cormaroth. The wind rustled the leaves. Silence reigned, except for the soft crackle of dry leaves. Lindie paused, dry leaves? The leaves had been green when she’d been walking towards the tree, across the meadow. With a sense of dread, Lindie slowly gazed up into the spreading apple tree. The leaves were brown, dry and dead. The world shook and a soul-twisting groan echoed from beneath the ground. Lindie lowered her eyes to the long grass; a fruit basket lay nearby, crushing the now yellowing blades of grass. A handful of apples sat in the basket. They shone, red and green, but as she watched, they withered and dried, decaying at an accelerated rate. She gasped, shaking as they shrivelled up into dry, rotten, husks. The sky grew darker, turning black as the clouds swirled in a spiral above her. Lindie stood stock still, terrified, her fears for Kaya faded away. Now her concern focused on her own wellbeing. She whimpered as the ground shook and cracked. The world seemed to be falling away, beneath her. As she looked down, the earth disintegrated. She screamed, suddenly tumbling through the air into nothingness. Beneath her, the world had gone, to be replaced by only blackness, which rose up and engulfed her. The darkness eventually gave way to horrible scenes - a desolate landscape, bizarre, ancient ruins, and souls being tortured by black, shadow-like creature
s. As she fell, she heard the clack, clack of chitinous limbs advancing, amidst a chorus of screams of agony. It had to be Avanti - the Spider Queen, the weigher of souls. Lindie didn’t dare look. She screwed her face up, accepting her fate - an eternity of torment in the Abyss for an abomination in the eyes of Orion, her place in Kirkfell, forfeit forever.

  Lindie gasped and opened her eyes, realising she’d been dreaming. The cold, rough, heavy iron band, resting on her neck made her groan with discomfort. She realised she’d been dreaming. Awake now, she felt disorientated - where could she be? She tried to sit up and realisation struck. The rough iron collar around her throat, chained to the wall seemed the most brutal reminder of her situation. Her cold, dark and dingy cell had no windows. The only light came from a flickering torch burning in the corridor. Its glow penetrated the cell through the tiny barred window in the solitary, heavy oak door. Lindie sat up. To discern the time of day while in her gloomy cell was impossible. The straw on the floor smelled of excrement and urine, she shuddered, realising how trapped she was. Once wakefulness had come upon her, she remembered her fate. She had been condemned to death. Sentenced by Melchiot to be burnt at the stake for having intimacy with one of the same sex. She was guilty of course. On many nights, Lindie and Kaya had stolen away from their homes to lie in each other’s arms, to experience one another’s flesh. The hazy image, of lying in the long grass near the old apple tree, embracing Kaya and enjoying the warmth of a summer’s day, seemed a faded memory now. She would never see Kaya alive again. The Book of Creation, explicitly stated the punishment for abominations. Both Kaya’s and Lindie’s souls would be weighed by Avanti, the Spider Queen. Unless the prayers for forgiveness, uttered by the quisitors, as Kaya and Lindie were purified by the flames were successful - their fate was sealed. They would spend the rest of eternity suffering unspeakable torture, at the hands of the spectres of the Abyss. They should have thought about this of course, when they were cavorting and exploring each other’s bodies. The trouble was, love was such a strong emotion. It made everything else unimportant. It grabbed you and imprisoned you in the moment.