Child of the Outcast (Born Vampire Book 2)

by Elizabeth Dunlap

  Other books by Elizabeth Dunlap

  Born Vampire Series

  Knight of the Hunted

  Child of the Outcast

  by Elizabeth Dunlap

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CHILD OF THE OUTCAST

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 by Elizabeth Dunlap

  Cover design by Elizabeth Dunlap

  Cover layout by Muhammad Asad

  Cover photo by Irina Bogolapova

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

  First Printing: July, 2017

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition: July, 2017

  Dedicated to my unfailingly faithful partner, Jesse.

  A lot of the events in this book were taken from my own life, and now that you’re here, I never have to go through them again.

  CHAPTER 1

  Agony.

  Pure, debilitating agony.

  That’s what awaited me as Arthur dragged my lifeless body into the doors of the castle, past my peers who gave me more than a passing glance, and to a halting stop at the staircase. I was numb. Dead inside with grief, and so removed I didn’t even care that the other vampires were whispering and staring at me. What did it matter? I didn’t have the strength to feel shame.

  I waited for the tug from Arthur at my bound wrists. He wasn’t gentle. The skin under my binds was an angry red. If I was a human, there would be no skin left. I needed blood to heal, but since I had become his captive last week, he gave me no more than a mouthful of gross bagged blood every morning, and I’d already had my daily ration.

  “What have you done to her?” I heard Othello’s indignant tone across the room where Arthur stood with him. Arthur explained that I was a prisoner and my treatment wasn’t Othello’s concern. They continued talking so I stopped paying attention.

  I just wanted to get my sentencing over with. If I died, awesome. If not, I’d be banished and I’d live out my days in a comatose state, forever dying inside without the man I loved.

  Was he already dead? Had they already judged him without first making sure he was as violent as they thought he was? Had he even been given a chance to plead for his own life?

  I couldn’t picture his eyes dimming and his body going still. Well, I could. But it costed me part of my sanity. And I had to force it from my mind for I could not bear it.

  “What have they done to you?” Othello said again, this time much closer to my ears. I glanced upwards and barely registered that he was standing in front of me.

  “They took him,” I murmured in a broken tone. “They let him be taken away to die”

  “Who? What is she talking about?”

  Arthur didn’t answer, probably deeming the information unnecessary. “Has the Council arrived?” he asked instead.

  “Yes, they’re all here. And they’ve begun the discussion of guilt.”

  Good. The sooner they decided my fate the better. I hoped they picked to execute me. I wanted to die. If Knight was dead, I wanted to die.

  Othello said something to Arthur before leaving. Arthur grabbed my restraints and started pulling me up the stairs. I stumbled a lot, since I wasn’t paying attention to anything except my sorrow, so he practically dragged me up the staircase. I caught my footing at the landing and followed Arthur down the dark red carpeted hallway.

  I stumbled up another flight of steps before he stopped at a large door, which he unlocked. I recognized the room behind it. It was my suite. He grabbed my arm and shoved me inside before slamming the door in my face and locking it from the outside.

  I placed a hand on the white wood of the door. The lock had been changed and the security chains removed. This door no longer locked from the inside.

  I was a prisoner. A prisoner in my own rooms.

  My new life was a criminal for sparing a child’s life. A Lycan child, but still a child. Even now, after all that had happened, I didn’t regret what I’d done.

  I spent the first day on edge, waiting for Arthur to burst in and drag me back downstairs for sentencing. The second day was harder. Relaxing was difficult, and I found myself simply lying on the floor waiting for something to happen.

  My mind constantly reminded me that Knight was probably dead by now, and my sorrow slowly carved out a deep well of emotion I couldn’t climb out of.

  Every day at 8 am, Arthur opened the door and tossed in a bag of blood, before shutting the door again and locking it. I felt like an animal in a cage he threw scraps to just to keep me from dying of hunger. The bagged blood turned my stomach and would eventually make my muscles atrophy again. He also gave me trays of food at lunchtime and dinnertime, but they were rarely food I would’ve eaten. That combined with the bagged blood, I was surprised I could keep anything in my stomach.

  The mental torture was extreme. I relived every moment of my time under James’s control, including how I had become the abuser during my blood binge and had hurt Sara. I felt like a traitor. I’d fought so hard to protect humans and I’d mistreated one. I hoped she could forgive me for my abuse.

  By day five, I was beginning to creep up to the edges of my sanity. How long would I be in here waiting? I’d never been a patient person, and this tested every bit of resolve I had. I just had to wait it out. Soon, any day now, Arthur would come get me and the Council would find me guilty. I had to hold onto that hope.

  My suite was empty and cold. Cameron’s old room most of all made me feel even sadder. As I wandered from room to room to pass the endless hours, I found myself coming back to his old room every time. I pressed my face into the carpet, hoping against hope I could catch his scent, just so I could feel better for a few seconds. Alas, the carpet had been shampooed after he moved out, and no trace scent remained.

  Was he happy?

  Cameron deserved a full and happy life. I wanted it for him more than I wanted almost anything else, beyond to see Knight again, and maybe sucker punch James a few times. I didn’t expect happiness in my life again, so I wanted it for Cameron that much more.

  If he was living a good life, I could find a little bit of comfort.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE DAYS WERE BEGINNING TO blur together. The only marker of time passing was the consistent supply of bagged blood every morning, and the trays of food at lunch and dinnertime. I often wondered if Arthur should just install a doggie door to slip the food and blood into, so then he would never have to unlock my door.

  At least my cell was nicely decorated, and had working plumbing. It was achingly lonely being in solitary confinement. Even someone like me, who didn’t thrive on social interaction, was hitting my limit. I would’ve traded my blood ration for the chance to see someone other than my own reflection and Arthur’s throwing arm.

  I rarely talked to myself, as one sometimes does, so I didn’t even have myself to interact with. The silence was penetrative. Arthur had taken my phone, and with it my music, so I couldn’t immerse myself in Copeland or Tchaikovsky. I couldn’t sing along with Gershwin, or show tune it up with Sondheim. He might as well have taken all my books away. I did at least have those to escape into, and it was quite literally the only comfort I had. With nothing else to do, I went through at least two or three books a day, diving into Narnia and buildi
ng the pyramids brick by brick.

  When I’d read through my entire collection of books, which was well over 1000 novels, I decided to take action. Was I truly without rights?

  I wrote up a note of things I’d like to be purchased with my credit card, and quickly slipped it under the door around the time I knew Arthur would be giving me my bag of blood.

  He slipped it back under, because of course he would.

  I was napping on my couch, three weeks into my confinement, when I smelled lilacs. The scent woke me up and I saw Balthazar sitting at my feet. I sat up and fell into his arms. I’d missed him so much. As I held him to me, I realized I needed him now more than ever.

  “Don’t leave,” I begged him, clutching him close. “I’m so alone. Please don’t leave.”

  I could feel him smile against my shoulder. “You don’t want me here all the time, pet. It would get very boring.”

  “I don’t care. I need you. You never stay when I need you.” I was chastising a being older than every civilization on the planet. But I’d been in agony, and I couldn’t bear it any longer.

  “I know,” he admitted gently, running his fingers through my hair. “I’ll stay. Not all the time, but I’ll be here as often as I can.”

  I gripped his fancy suit jacket and his long black hair in my hands, reassuring myself that he was actually here and not a figment of my loneliness. “More often than once a month?”

  “As often as I can,” he promised. He pushed me away and fussed with my black curls. The perm and coloring I’d gotten had faded, and I was back to my natural beautiful hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was busy.”

  “Copenhagen?” It was a private joke between us, meaning he was off seducing human women, as Incubi are meant to do. He could flirt all he wanted, but making a first generation Born vampire with one was forbidden, and had been so for several hundred years. The Succubi were also not allowed to create Primal werewolves by scratching human males. Knight’s creation had happened after the ban, which made his presence much more jarring for the Lycans.

  My face had fallen as I thought about Knight. Balthazar leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. I looked up at him. “Is Knight…” I couldn’t say the word ‘dead’.

  Balthazar had never lied to me, so I believed him when he said, “They won’t let him live, Lisbeth.”

  If I hadn’t been in solitude for three weeks, constantly reminding myself of the truth he’d just spoken, I would’ve broken in half. I would’ve lost it.

  His arms went around me in a soothing hug. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he murmured. “I wish I could spare you this pain. I’d take it from you in a heartbeat if it was possible.”

  The tone in his voice spoke of a time when he felt what I was feeling. Had he lost my mother? My grandmother? Which one caused him that pain? It hardly mattered, and I stowed away the curiosity. For now, it was more than comforting to be with someone who knew my pain.

  I didn’t want to let Balthazar go. I held him until I couldn’t feel my arms anymore. And then, I fell asleep against his neck.

  True to his word, Balthazar came by a few times every week. As my confinement went on and on, I began to wonder what was happening. What was taking the Council so long? Maybe they were busy with other things and were putting my trial off. I wished I knew.

  Balthazar’s visits were odd and amazing all at once. I’d never seen this much of him in all my four hundred years. Not ever. We played games, sat together reading books, played on my piano, and painted pictures of each other.

  It helped take my mind off the pain. But it couldn’t erase it. Nothing could. Vampires never forgot anything. I’d always feel with blinding clarity how much it hurt to lose Knight. Over time, it would move to the back of my mind, but it would always be there lurking in the shadows, waiting for a weak moment to jump out again. Something to look forward to.

  When I’d been confined for seven weeks, Olivier barged into my room followed by a complaining Arthur. I hadn’t seen her since I’d been brought back. She was carrying a small bird cage, and handed me a tiny baby bird. She told me Cameron had found it in the yard, abandoned by its mother, and wanted me to have it. It was the best present ever. I channeled all my emotions into taking care of the little bird. I sat next to its cage for hours, just watching it try to move without falling over.

  “What a cute little bird,” Balthazar commented, suddenly sitting beside me.

  “You’re going to scare it if you keep doing that,” I told him, only mildly serious.

  He stuck his tongue out at me, and then he brought a hand up to pet my hair. “How are you?”

  I looked down at the bird cage and sighed. “I hate being in here. I’m tired of wondering what the Order has decided. Will I, won’t I? And Knight.” My voice faltered. “I’m trying to accept that he’s gone. I am. I know he’s dead and I’ll never see him again.”

  “Stop.” I looked up at him and saw understanding and sympathy in his crystal blue eyes. “You loved him. Don’t try to push yourself to move on. You need to grieve.”

  I tried to be brave. “It’s not the first time I’ve lost someone.”

  He sighed and kissed me on the forehead, gently and with so much love. “Yes, it is.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, the man who understood me so well. “Don’t leave,” I begged him.

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  CHAPTER 3

  THIS MUST BE WHAT DOLPHINS feel like. Those creatures of the sea are used to swimming for miles every day, and humans pen them up in little tanks they can’t leave. How do they survive? How are they not crushed with sorrow every day? They can’t be free anymore. They can’t live.

  I wished I could drown myself. That’s what dolphins do when they don’t want to live anymore. They just go under the water and never come back up. Stupid dolphins, having the ability to make themselves die. I envied them.

  Dying would be a release. I wouldn’t have to feel all this pain anymore. It would end with my last breath, and I’d fade into solace unknown.

  The hot water of my bath swirled around my nose and ears and I blinked to invite it under my eyes too. Let every bubble of air escape my lungs. Would I die? Or would I just lie here in the water in stasis, until my blood supply ran out from keeping me alive, and I woke with a red eyed frenzy.

  Something dark walked into the room and sat on the edge of my tub. I re-surfaced and wiped the water from my eyes.

  “What are you doing?” The voice I heard was Knight’s. That was impossible, of course, so I knew I was hallucinating. Low on air, low on blood, boom. Imaginary dead boyfriend.

  “I was being a dolphin,” I informed him matter-of-factly. My delusions should be more well-informed. It was nice to see him, at any rate. Even if he was just a fantasy. It didn’t give me the relief I hoped it would, but it was nice. His hair was greasy and his clothes messy like he’d rolled in a puddle. “You look like you need a bath more than I do,” I said jokingly.

  He sighed. “Don’t I know it.” He surveyed the large tub around me. “Looks like that seats two. Mind if I joined?”

  I scrunched my knees to my chest. “No way! You’re not getting my bath water all dirty!”

  He chuckled into his hand, his deep brown eyes studying me. “It’s good to see you, Lis.”

  I turned my face away from the mirage. “You’re not even here.” When I blinked and looked back, he was gone.

  I understood my delusion wasn’t real. Knight hadn’t visited me. It didn’t fill me with hope for his survival, and it didn’t relieve my pain. Plus, he’d ruined a perfectly good science experiment on vampires and drowning.

  Did my trip to psycho land make me feel better? No. Was I going to keep pretending to be a dolphin so he would come back? Also no. I couldn’t heal if I was constantly conjuring him up. Besides, I already felt my sanity slipping, and I didn’t want it to get worse.

  Of course, being locked up was much worse than having delusions, and I began to
lose hope that I would ever be let out. My imprisonment had reached the triple digits when Cameron was finally approved to see me.

  “Sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he said after Arthur had shut and locked the door. “There was a Snorlax blocking the way.”

  “You’re such a weirdo.” I stopped mid-laugh and my heart stopped. I’d been in such a rush to run and hug him that I almost didn’t notice that he was different.

  Cameron wasn’t human anymore.

  I clasped a hand over my mouth to hold in the scream of sorrow I felt rising up my throat.

  No.

  Not him.

  He was supposed to leave here and live his life. Find a girlfriend, get married, have annoying kids that liked video games. And die. He was supposed to die. Die a happy old man with his family at his side bidding him farewell in a bittersweet moment as he relived his beautiful happy life.

  The hand over my mouth didn’t stop me from crying.

  “Why,” I shouted between my gut wrenching sobs. “Why did you become one of the turned? Why did you do that? You were…” I cried harder, trying to get my words out. “You were supposed to have a life! A family! You weren’t supposed to be frozen!”

  “Lisbeth,” he said gently over my wails. “Please let me explain.” I quieted myself to broken snuffles and reached for a tissue to clean my face. He sighed at the sight of me and ran a hand through his newly dyed black locks. “When I came to you, I was a homeless teenager. I’d never slept somewhere for more than a few nights. I never had a home, or a family. You gave me both. You raised me, and you became my friend, but we mean more to each other than just friends. You’re my family. My onee-san, my big sister. I won’t walk away from you. I used to think that what I wanted was to leave and get as far away from here as I could get. Only, I was wrong. I want this life. I want to be with my sister.”