The stranger smiled at Alexander then turned to Yosef. “And this young man is?”
“Meet my servant, Gleb. He wants to learn business.”
Gleb raised a dark brow and assessed Alexander one more time. “A servant reaching for something beyond his station?”
“I am doing this to be of more use to the household, sir,” Alexander said and bowed his head.
Yosef drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Teach him the ropes, Gleb. I do not have time to do so as I have a meeting to attend to.”
Gleb nodded and faced Alexander. “Do you believe you are smart enough for business?”
“My father taught me to read and write, sir. I have knowledge of some mathematics…but I am certain there is a wealth more you can teach me,” Alexander added quickly.
Yosef laughed. “I see that old fox was busy when I was away.”
Gleb laughed. “Very well, Alexander. You may stop calling me sir for now. Use my name instead.”
“I understand,” Alexander replied.
Yosef buttoned up his jacket and said his goodbye.
Alexander watched him leave. He could only hope that Gleb would teach him the ropes and not abandon him as his master had done.
“Let’s get straight to business.” Gleb waved for Alexander to follow him into the back room where there was different machinery that Alexander had not seen before. They strolled past them until they reached a tiny closet in the corner. Gleb opened the creaking door, reached in, and pulled out a pair of black trousers and a white shirt which he handed to Alexander.
“This shall be your uniform. You should always wear this in the store. If you do not, I will throw you out on the streets. Our customers must not see you in your drab servant attire.”
“I will change immediately,” Alexander said.
Gleb rested his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “You are quick to learn, I am glad for that, and your looks will undoubtedly attract enough female customers to fill the empty tables. But, I must warn you, I do not tolerate mistakes. While Yosef is away, I manage this business, and you would do well to heed everything I tell you. Understood?”
Alexander gave him a nervous smile. “As long as you are willing to teach me, I am willing to learn and be the best student you have.”
Gleb slapped Alexander’s shoulder with excitement. “Get changed. You have much to learn.”
CHAPTER 5
Moscow. August, 1775.
Alexander carried a heavy wooden crate that smelled of ocean and tea leaves. His back was drenched with sweat as the dry summer heat continued to plague their city. His calloused fingers ached and pulsated. He shifted the weight of the crate and winced when a splinter buried itself in his index finger.
Muttering a silent cuss under his breath, he kicked open the storage room’s door where Gleb was resting on his crate.
“Where do you want me to put this?” Alexander asked out of breath.
Gleb chuckled. “For a young man, you are strangely out of shape.” He shook his head and pointed to a crate that was pushed up against the wall. “Leave it on top. We can deal with them once we take a quick break.”
Seconding the idea with a bob of his head, Alexander set down the shipment and stretched. The stinging in his finger continued, so he plucked the wood out with his dirty nails.
Gleb had no idea that Alexander was working for over seventeen hours a day, every day since Katharine left. The dark circles under his eyes were like two eclipsed half-moons. No one was kind enough to spare a comment of concern his way, not like he expected any. This was his decision. He had to prove to Yosef that he could take care of Katharine, although climbing the social ranks would be next to impossible.
“That’s enough resting. Get these tea leaves separated into different bags. I have to wait for our new friend in the store,” Gleb said and ambled out of the storage room.
Alexander’s mood brightened up upon hearing those words. Perhaps the new man was going to lessen his burden. He stretched one last time, his sore muscles aching from being overworked. He pulled up a stool and began separating the leaves.
When his task was completed, Alexander left for the front of the store. Gleb was reluctant to teach him the ropes of money handling, yet he was warming up to the idea ever since there was an influx of female patrons.
“Andrey, meet Alexander. He works for Yosef.” Gleb introduced a handsome man in his late twenties with a pale complexion and dark hair that made him look as if he had not spent a single day working in the sun. His clothes were tailored, Alexander was certain of that, and his shoes shone with a fresh coat of polish.
Andrey regarded Alexander with a frosty expression and acknowledge him with a slow nod.
After wiping the perspiration from his hands on his trousers, Alexander offered his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Andrey eyed the hand as if it was diseased with a plague. He wrinkled his long nose and hid his hands behind his back. “I would rather not shake hands with men of your status. People might talk.”
Biting back a retort, Alexander dropped his hand to his side and raised a brow at Gleb. “May I ask what his job will be here?”
“He will learn the business from Yosef and I, of course. This is Yosef’s future son-in-law,” Gleb said brightly.
Alexander felt his stomach churn and sink into the abyss. Is there no way to convince Yosef that I could be the one for Katharine? He stumbled backwards and grasped the nearby counter for support.
“Are you well?” Gleb asked with a hint of concern in his voice.
Alexander nodded. That was all he could do as bile was quickly scaling his parched throat. “Excuse me.” He ran to the toilet.
Moscow. November, 1775.
“I beg of you, son, quit working two jobs. Your body will not hold out much longer,” Alexander’s mother pleaded.
He grunted, pushed his feverish, sweaty body out of bed and tumbled to the floor.
“Mama, I must continue. I must prove that I am worthy,” he said in his delirium.
She knelt at his side and touched his burning forehead with her cool hand. “You are a fool. Rest at home today. The weather outside will cause you to die if you go to that store in this state.”
He shook his head, or tried to do so, while his mother placed his head on her lap.
“Mama, I must—”
“You must respect me first, Alexander. You will remain at home until you are better. I will talk to Yosef, and he will give you a few days off to recover. Now climb back into bed and sleep. You cannot pass away before I do. It would break my heart.”
Alexander pressed his cracked lips together and, with his mother’s help, fell back onto his bed. She wrapped his body in the winter covers and kissed his forehead.
“Sleep well,” she murmured.
Moscow. January, 1776.
Andrey smacked Alexander on the back of the head with his gloved hand. “Hurry up! We do not have all winter for you to dawdle before clearing up this snow.”
Alexander blew his warm breath on his frozen hands, witnessing the steam rising. His body was chilled to the bone. He only had a light coat on that Gleb had stashed away in the closet. Some clumps of snow melted in his shoes, and he closed his eyes, praying for patience.
“I will complete my task if you stop pestering me every moment of the day with another task,” Alexander retorted.
“By the time I come to you with a new task, don’t you think the previous one should be completed?”
Alexander picked up the shovel and rammed it in the snow that reached his knees. There was no point in arguing with this man. Andrey believed himself to be right on every occasion, and Alexander had no energy for yet another scolding from Yosef or Gleb.
Andrey marched back inside the store and closed the door behind him, leaving Alexander alone on the cold winter’s night. There was not a single cloud in the sky when he looked up.
Is there more to this world than being a servant to these arrogant
men?
“Aren’t you cold?” someone asked in a deep baritone.
Alexander turned his head. “Freezing would be a better description, sir.”
The man laughed and pulled off his crimson woollen scarf. He handed it to Alexander. “Wear this, young man. You have a whole life ahead of you. I wouldn’t want to read about your unfortunate death in the morning papers.”
Alexander hesitated but took the piece of clothing nonetheless. “I am grateful for your kindness.”
“Till we meet again,” the stranger said and walked on, disappearing into the darkness of the night.
Moscow. May, 1776.
The day of Katharine’s return was drawing near, and Alexander had nothing to show for his hard work in Yosef’s store. Her father cared not about Alexander’s opinions. He often sided with Andrey, whose only quality seemed to be his ability to hurl insults at people below his station.
Alexander sat on a crate in the storage room and rested his head against the wall.
“I cannot wait to see you, my love,” he said.
“And who would that be?” Andrey asked as he waltzed in with an oversized smirk on his face.
“That is none of your concern.” Alexander lowered his gaze. Looking at the dirt between the floorboards was easier than having to see Andrey’s smug face.
“It is of my concern if you are entertaining one or all of our customers. You seem awfully tired when you come to work. Is fornicating with them more interesting or have you found yourself some pitiful wench in the markets?”
Anger flooded through Alexander in an instant as if a dam had burst somewhere inside of him. In the next second, he was on his feet and grabbed Andrey’s collar. “Do not compare Katharine to them! She is beautiful and untainted by the dirt you wish to roll her in.”
Andrey punched Alexander in the gut, making him double over in pain. “I do hope you are not talking about my fiancée because if you are, then your greedy dirty paws are reaching too far.”
Alexander glared at him and spat at his shiny shoes. “Men like you do not deserve her.”
Andrey kicked Alexander with his dirtied shoe, again and again, until he was on the floor. Alexander’s breath was knocked out of him and his body ached all over.
Grasping Alexander by the hair, Andrey lifted his head. “And filth like you should not even lift their nose off the ground.”
Moscow. Late May, 1776.
Alexander clutched the silver wedding band he managed to purchase with his savings as he made his way home. He felt that it wasn’t enough for Katharine’s beauty. No. He knew it wasn’t enough. Yet, he wanted to take her away from Andrey. That man was cruel and cared solely for himself. His heart was too cold to give her the warmth she deserved and craved.
The sun had set over the horizon, painting the sky in pastel colours. He admired it, comparing the pinks to Katharine’s flushed cheeks and the reds to her mahogany hair. Over the year, she must have grown in beauty, and he would see her tonight to judge for himself. He would propose, too, baring his heart for her to take or smash into a million pieces.
“Alexander!” Andrey called, and Alexander froze in his step.
What does he want with me now?
He turned around only to be met with a fist that connected with his jaw. The force sent him falling. Alexander tried blinking away the dark spots that marred his vision, but another blow came. His face stung where that man landed punches. A heavy weight pressed on his chest, restricting his air supply, and he realised that Andrey sat on him.
Alexander gasped, struggling to feed his starving lungs with a little air that would not come. He tried punching back. His fists missed, and he ended up getting an even stronger punch in the face that dislocated his jaw. He moaned in agony, and Andrey finally got off him.
“You won’t be seeing her again, filth! She will wed me next week and, by then, you will be in your early grave,” Andrey hissed.
Alexander opened his left eye, since the right one was already swelling, and saw Andrey retreating. Using what little strength he had left, he tried to push himself back into a standing position. He would not let that son-of-a-Devil have the satisfaction of his death in this empty, rat-riddled alley.
“Take care of the rest,” Andrey ordered and handed a small purse to a waiting hand.
Two burly men approached him, and Alexander crawled backwards. His wide eye darted from one thug to the other.
“I have not ‘one…any’ing to…you,” he managed to say with his aching slack jaw.
They surrounded him with ease. From their appearance, they had to be dock workers.
“We do what we are paid to do. I guess today is your unlucky night, friend,” one of them said.
Their kicks came in quick succession, and Alexander cried out in pain as he felt his ribs cracking and snapping. Hot tears rolled down his dirty face, and he coughed up blood. His life was coming to an end. He could not even protect himself.
Who will defend Katharine and Mother when I am gone?
The pain grew too much to bear, and his consciousness began slipping away when the kicks suddenly stopped. He heard screams echoing in the alley, but they did not belong to him. Alexander opened his eye. All he saw was a blur. One moment he thought he saw someone standing above him and the next that person was gone.
After what seemed like perpetuity of time had passed, a man knelt next to him and raised Alexander’s head. He recognised the stranger—it was the kind man who gave him his scarf in winter.
“First you are freezing to near death and now you are being beaten to death. You, young man, have the worst luck,” the stranger said.
Even though it hurt, Alexander felt his lips twitching upward. “I do.”
The stranger’s face grew serious. “I have seen you. You work hard and have a good head on your shoulders. I can save your life, but you must leave everything behind for a year or two.”
Alexander frowned. No one could save him in the state he was in. He could already feel the tendrils of death cooling his fingers and toes as they tugged the life-force out of his body.
The man sighed. “Do you wish to live, yes or no?”
That is a simple question. “Yes…”
“Then I shall make you into my childe.”
Before Alexander knew what was happening, the man’s irises shone bright green, and he bit into Alexander’s neck.
He had no energy left to scream, so he relaxed. If this creature wanted to kill him, so be it. He was not getting out of this alley alive either way.
CHAPTER 6
Alexander took in a breath with his aching lungs. The cool air dried his already parched throat further. He grunted and peeled open his heavy eyelids. Squinting at the sudden light that came from the chandelier above, he let out a mild cuss. He covered his face with his hand to block the invading brightness.
“You are among the living once more.” A deep, familiar baritone came from his right.
Alexander rolled his head to one side, trying to focus on the source of the voice. The man he met in the alley sat in a maroon bergère with his elbows resting on the oak armrests. He sported a crystal glass of a rich scarlet liquid in his left hand.
The strange man wore a forest-green coat over a white shirt with a dark grey scarf tastefully wrapped around his neck. His sandy hair was short—an ideal length for a gentleman, yet long enough to almost cover his forehead that had deep stress lines carved into it. Two green eyes, as dark as his coat, were focused on Alexander. He could not be older than five and forty years of age.
Alexander shifted into a sitting position. Although the movement made him dizzy, he used the bed for support.
“How long have I imposed on your kindness?” Alexander asked.
A light-hearted rumble escaped the man’s throat as he laughed. “You did not impose on me. I brought you to my country home to help you adjust to your new life.”
Alexander unconsciously clutched at his throat. He was thirsty. He needed to find somet
hing to drink. Something warm and sweet and red… His eyes narrowed on the drink the man held.
“I am sorry, sir, but I must return to my work. My master will be looking for me,” Alexander replied and tried standing up.
His body swayed, and he was caught by the man before he collapsed on the floor. Alexander’s brows drew together in confusion. He had not seen the stranger move from his seat. He licked his lips. The dryness in his throat was becoming unbearable. He needed to drink something, anything.
“You are weak because you were too close to death when I turned you. Sit and I shall bring you something to drink.” He helped Alexander sit back down.
Turned me? Turned me into what? Alexander rubbed his face with his hands. What is going on? He closed his eyes, trying to recall what happened in the alley after the man scared off Andrey’s men. He was dying. His body was cold, his heart was slowing down, and then this man bit him. He let out a nervous chuckle. That had to be his wild imagination playing tricks. He almost died, after all. Yet, although he was certain his ribs were broken at the time, he felt stronger than ever.
Alexander moved his hands away from his face and watched the man leave the room. He found himself in a guest room and not the servant’s quarters he was used to. The floor was not covered with dirt and hay but had a shiny sheet of lacquered maple flooring in place. The walls were panelled dark redwood that Alexander couldn’t identify and the furniture seemed Western.
The gentleman returned and handed him a crystal glass of crimson liquid. The sweet coppery smell from it made Alexander lick his lips eagerly. As he raised the glass, he saw the reflection of his face in the crystal. His eyes were aglow with molten silver light.
The glass Alexander held slipped between his fingers, shattering into countless pieces. He scrambled away from the mess, but his eyes remained glued to the thick liquid that slowly spread over the floor and the broken shards of glass.
“Why is there light shooting from my eyes? W-what am I?”
“You are undead, Alexander. Others call us: vampirs, demons, blood-drinkers, but do not fret. Once you learn to control your—”
Alexander: Memoirs (A Vampire In Love Book 1) Page 4