Song of the Vampire (Vanderlind Realm Book 3)

by Gayla Twist

  Misty gave me a small, quizzical smile that I could not decipher.

  “It’s settled, then,” the man said, gruffly. After filling a goblet from the buffet for himself, he added, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my study.” With that, he stumped off.

  As you can see, Uncle Alfred is still as irascible as ever,” Misty said, trying to act amused, although her pretty face appeared a bit downcast.

  Alfred, I repeated to myself. It didn’t ring any bells, but at least I had a name to connect with the man.

  “There’s still a bit of the night left,” the vampiress said, filling a goblet of her own. “Would you like to take a stroll? The climate’s been so mild that we still have a good showing in the moon garden.”

  “I would be delighted,” I told her. Maybe a relaxed conversation with this old friend would jar my memory. Plus, nothing in the house felt familiar, not in the least. I felt awkward being there on my own. How much time had I spent there in the past? I had to wonder.

  After we’d slaked our thirst, I offered my arm to Misty as we headed out the door. Moon gardens were all the rage when Victorian ladies wanted to enjoy the outdoors, but avoid the sun. Vampires had taken over this particular fad and kept it going for the last hundred-and-fifty years or so.

  The weather was warm. It felt unseasonably warm to me, although I wasn't’ sure of the season. Somehow I was expecting snow and ice. The grounds were beautiful, but the exterior of the mansion had that hodgepodge effect you see when a small, older house has been expanded and built upon many times. The whole thing had been painted white in an attempt to give it a certain uniformity and the classic appearance that it lacked.

  “What kind of plants do you have in your moon garden?” I asked, just to be genial.

  “Flowering Tobacco and Evening Primrose, of course,” Misty told me.

  “What other flowers?” I asked. “I have to imagine you have something more out of the ordinary than just the traditional blossoms.” I was guessing by her eagerness to show off the garden that there had to be a little pride behind it.

  Misty smiled, obviously pleased. “Well, we have Moon Frolic Daylilies, Jewel of Hearts, Toltec Sundials.” She continued eagerly with, “And I’ve just gotten some Witches Dance to bloom.”

  “Are those all daylilies?”

  “Yes,” she said with a nod. “There are actually forty-nine varieties of night blooming daylilies.”

  “And how many do you currently cultivate?”

  This made her frown a little. “Only seventeen, but, I’m sure I’ll eventually have them all if I end up staying here for any extended period of time.”

  At that point we crossed through the gate of a small stone wall and entered the garden. A small “Ah,” escaped my lips. The garden was something out of a storybook, with pale blooms peeking like fairies out from the foliage. A gravel path wound through the space and stone benches were judiciously placed throughout the landscape for visitors to relax and enjoy the serenity. The air was heavy with the scent of blossoms, but not oppressively so, like when jasmine blooms in the heat.

  “You know,” I said in a low voice. “I think this is the prettiest garden I’ve seen since…” And then I tried to remember the last time I’d seen a garden that was so picturesque. “Shall we sit?” I asked as a way to finish my sentence. “I’d like to see all your daylilies, but first I’d like to enjoy the moment.”

  We took a seat on the nearest stone bench. I was surprised when Misty chose to sit very close to me. I hadn’t realized we were that good of friends. After several minutes of sitting with her thigh pressing against mine, I asked, “Has gardening always been your passion?” I immediately regretted my choice of words.

  “Not when I was a mortal,” Misty admitted with a small sigh. “But since I was turned, I’ve come to miss the sunshine. And this,” she said, gesturing toward the space around her, “is the closest I can get.”

  It was true, the colors of night weren’t as brilliant as the colors of day. The vivid hues of nature just weren’t the same in the dark. It wasn’t like we saw the nighttime world in the black and white of old photographs, but we never got to enjoy the brilliance of a sunset or the simple charm of daffodils on a sunny afternoon.

  I had to smile at Misty. She didn’t feel at all familiar to me, but I found her quite charming, and rather beautiful in a way that almost had a mortal quality. Caught up with the impulse, I took the liberty to say, “You’re a bit of a night blooming daylily, yourself.”

  Misty tilted her head to one side, giving me a small frown. Then she leaned in even closer, shut her eyes and lifted her chin. I didn’t feel I had any choice but to kiss her.

  Chapter 10

  Dorian

  I was kissing a beautiful woman, but it felt wrong, horribly wrong. “I’m sorry,” I said, breaking our embrace and leaping to my feet. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “It’s alright,” Misty assured me.

  “It isn’t alright,” I insisted. At least it didn’t feel right to me. “I really have no excuse. It’s just that you’re very beautiful, and this garden is so lovely, and…”

  “It’s alright,” she said, again. “I wanted you to kiss me. But we don’t have to. Not if it upsets you.”

  “But…” I stammered, struggling to explain myself. In many ways kissing Misty felt like a very natural thing to do. But something deep in the core of me rebelled against it with an emotion that I couldn’t explain. “It’s not that it upsets me, — you are very beautiful, after all — it’s just…” I didn’t want to offend her.

  Leaning forward, Misty said in a voice that was just above a whisper, “It doesn’t matter, Darius. We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

  “Thank you,” I said in a subdued voice, although I wasn’t sure why we were whispering. “I just don’t want you to take it personally. It’s not because I don’t find you attractive.”

  “It’s okay,” she insisted. “As a matter of fact, I admire you for it.”

  I had an uneasy day of pacing up and down in the bedroom where I’d woken up. Not knowing who I was made it impossible for me to rest. I was told the gaming was to start quite early the following evening, so after the sun had set, I put on the nicest of the clean clothes that were available to me, a simply linen shirt and trousers. As I descended the stairs, I was filled with the mild dread of being the most underdressed person in a room filled with evening gowns and tuxedos.

  But my concern was completely unfounded, at least for that moment, because no one was there. I had expected a room filling with people while servants bustled about. Instead I just heard the voice of Uncle Alfred bellowing into the telephone. “He’s a damn Vanderlind. How do you think I feel?” I wondered if he realized how far his voice carried in a mansion with vaulted ceilings. “But there’s nothing I can do about it,” he went on. “At least not right now.”

  I’ve always hated being privy to someone’s private conversation, but I didn’t exactly want to go slinking back up the stairs. Instead I cleared my throat as I helped myself to some chilled refreshments that had been set out for arriving guests.

  “Oh, Darius. There you are,” Uncle Alfred sputtered, hastily entering the room. “I didn’t hear you come down.”

  “It’s Damion,” I told him, as off-the-cuff as I could.

  “Is it?” The man looked almost startled for a moment. “But I thought Misty said…” He let his words fade.

  “When does the gaming start?” I said, allowing him an easy transition away from his supposed faux pas. “I’m afraid I don’t have any of my clothes with me, let alone a tux.”

  This caused Alfred to release a hardy laugh. “No, no, young man. It’s not that kind of gaming. I suggest you go back upstairs and clad yourself in something more suitable for outdoor sport.”

  I did not feel reassured as I headed back to my room. Or at least the room where servants kept dropping off clothes for me to wear. What kind of gaming was outdoors? And then I
remembered a comment that the uncle had made the night before; he had said that my behavior was outlandish for a house guest. But if I was a house guest, then where were my possessions? Were they lost in the attack that had covered me in blood and erased my memory? And if there was an attack, was I the aggressor or the prey? And who was Vanderlind? Was that me? The name sounded so familiar, but I would have felt like an idiot asking one of my hosts to tell me my surname.

  Back upstairs I looked through the closet and dresser. Vampires liked to dress tweedy for outdoor sports. There was an effort to appear like English landed gentry by many of the undead. Fortunately, enough of my self-generating wardrobe fit the bill.

  I’d been to country parties where there was fox hunting, or quail, or whatever used to be traditional amongst mortals. I’d also participated in hunting with birds of prey. I’d even been invited to a few parties where the undead hunted birds of prey, but I never accepted another offer after accidentally being a spectator to one. There was something a little soul crushing about seeing a vampire snatch a falcon out of the sky. It felt unnatural, like we undead were a disease that plagued every corner of the animal kingdom to slake our appetites. Of course, our favorite food was mortal blood, which suddenly gave me a sinking feeling.

  I wasn’t surprised when, after the guests had arrived, twenty mortals were led out onto the lawn in front of the mansion. They were bound, gagged and tethered together. The whole thing made me sick, but I wasn’t surprised.

  “Will the hunters come forward,” Uncle Alfred requested. About a dozen vampires gathered around their host.

  I did not move from my spot. It was one thing to have some type of amnesia, but quite another to have one’s personality completely erased and I could feel deep in my gut that this was not the type of competition that I would enjoy.

  “I say, Damion,” one of the hunters said, noticing my reluctance. “Awfully poor show if you don’t join us.” I could tell he was only affecting an English accent and doing a poor job of it.

  “It’s Darren,” I told him.

  “Really?” He was surprised. “I thought…” His eyes shifted over to where Alfred stood.

  “I don’t believe Darius feels up to it,” Misty said, appearing by my side. “He’s had a rough couple of nights.”

  “I’m sure he’s dead on his feet,” the man quipped.

  Misty ignored his attempt at jocularity. “Yes, but he’s hardly condition to…”

  “Misty!” Uncle Alfred bellowed from across the lawn. “You will come here, instantly.” He pointed at the grass near his feet.

  The vampiress shot me a pained expression before replying, “Yes, Uncle Alfred,” and dutifully walking over to him.

  I found Misty’s behavior bizarre. If she’d been mortal, and as young as she appeared, then her behavior would have made more sense. But why was she so painfully tied to a man that she so clearly disliked?

  Alfred spoke to his niece in a very low voice, even too low for my vampire hearing, but his irritation was barely under control and I was able to pick up a word or two, even with the punster in front of me blathering away about his expectations for the hunt.

  The phrases that I managed to glean were, “If you expect,” and then “Your father would.” Then there was quite a bit of talking that I couldn’t follow before I heard, “This is the last time.” And then, “You know what will happen if…” The rest of Alfred’s lecture eluded me.

  After he finished venting his spleen upon his niece, Alfred lifted his hand in the air to draw people’s attention. Raising his voice, he said, “Hunters, gather round. I’m about to state the rules so that we can get this hunt underway.”

  Servants were unloading something from a truck onto the driveway. A crossbow caught my attention. And then I saw a spiked wooden club, bows and arrows, a leather bandolier studded with stakes, and a variety of other weapons that were traditionally used to battle vampires. I wasn’t big into blood sports, — at least I didn’t think I was — but the fact that the prey would be armed really upped the danger factor for hunting mortals.

  Another set of servants, armed with guns and billy clubs, proceeded to free the mortals from their bonds. Of the mortals, there were about fifteen men and five women. They were of various races and heights, but all obviously in peak physical condition.

  Alfred began his recital of the rules for the hunt. “You see before you some of the most highly trained athletes available — within reason, of course.” This made all the hunters smile and chuckled.

  I turned to notice that Misty had come to stand by my side. “Where did these mortals come from?” I asked in a low voice.

  “My uncle had specially trained servants research superior athletes from across the United States and Canada,” she told me in a voice just above a whisper. “No one too well-known, of course.” And I knew what she meant; it’s wouldn’t do to have an NBA player disappear. But an Olympic caliber archer wouldn’t draw quite as much notice, the world being what it was.

  One of the beefier men recently freed began to run, only to be pursued by the servants and knocked to the ground by a billy club to the knee. He was pulled back to the group limping, his chances of staying alive dropping dramatically. The other mortals began to panic, the entire group of them kept moving back and forth a little, like a spooked flock of sheep.

  A young woman in the crowd caught my attention; she wore a red jacket and her long, chestnut hair was streaming down around her shoulders. She wasn’t panicking like the others, although she was obviously scarred. If anything, she appeared to be gathering her strength and trying to center herself for the ordeal ahead. She must have noticed me staring at her because she met my gaze and held it for a moment before looking away. I couldn’t help but notice her eyes were hazel. Her whole appearance tugged at my memory, but I couldn’t explain why.

  “Do you know her?” Misty asked, noticing that the young woman had drawn my attention.

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s just… for a moment I thought she looked familiar.”

  “Our quarry will be given a fifteen minute head start,” Alfred continued after the excitement had quieted down. “During that time, the mortals can take advantage of the selection of weapons being laid out on the driveway.” He gestured, even though it was obvious what he was speaking about. “From this spot where I am standing,” he said, pointing toward the ground, “there has been a perimeter fence set up in every direction at a distance of exactly five miles. Any mortal that passes over that fence shall be allowed to go free. After being properly influenced, of course,” he said with a roguish grin that caused all the vampires to laugh again. A memory wipe would be necessary to keep the prey out of a lunatic asylum. “After fifteen minutes, then the hunt begins. Whoever has the most kills wins,” Alfred said, causing the undead to cheer and the mortals to gasp in horror. “Besides that, there are no rules.”

  “You can’t do this!” a mortal called from the crowd. He was a man with a shaved head, but a graying goatee. “This is murder. It’s illegal. You’re all insane.”

  One of the servants walked over and raised his rifle butt, looking to Alfred for a signal to know if he should put the gentleman at a disadvantage. Our host gave a slight shake of his head. Having too many injured mortals would make the game less interesting. Instead Alfred snapped his fingers and a servant appeared, handing him a starter pistol.

  “You have a fifteen minute head start,” he said, raising his voice to ensure that all of the mortals could hear him clearly. “Make the most of it.” Then he raised the starter pistol in the air and fired.

  Chapter 11

  Dorian

  About half the mortals just stood there, staring in disbelief, while the other half ran for the weapons. “Run, you dummies!” a guard shouted, taking a half-hearted swing at a woman, causing her to find her feet and start moving.

  Even with an obviously cracked kneecap, the beefy man got to the pile of weapons first. He armed himself with two repeating crossb
ows, one in each hand. “Come and get me, blood suckers!” he shouted, firing bolts into the crowd.

  One of the hunters was struck and he fell to the ground, clawing at his shoulder where the bold was embedded. He didn’t have long for this world. “You bastard!” cried his friend, dodging a bolt himself, while clearly heading to rip the mortals head off.

  “No mortal shall be touched for another fourteen minutes and fifteen seconds!” Alfred shouted above the noise of the crowd as everyone scrambled for cover.

  The mortal took aim in our direction and released another deadly missile, forcing me to grab Misty and fling her to the ground. Diving on top of her, I momentarily covered her with my body, which I knew was very forward, but I didn’t see any other way around it. “Sorry,’ I said, rolling off of her as soon as I thought it was safe.

  “No. Don’t apologize,” Misty said, gazing at me, a bit dazed. “Thank you.”

  “Come on,” I said, grabbing her by the hand and yanking her to her feet. I half dragged her to the mansion and pushed her toward the door. “Get inside and stay there.” I saw that she was about to protest, so I added, “Stay at least until the fifteen minutes are up.”

  After that I circled back to the gathering by way of some trees and a parked car, using them for cover. The man with the crossbows was out of ammo, so he’d hobbled back over to where the weapons had been stacked. There wasn’t much left. Most people had quickly grabbed something to defend themselves and started running.

  I’d been keeping an eye on my chestnut beauty before the shooting started. She hadn’t even paused to consider arming herself. She’d just taken off, heading straight for a patch of nearby woods. That was the smartest thing she could have done. Quite a few of the mortals had headed for the field of grass in front of the house. My guess was they assumed they could run faster in the open, but that also made them easier to view from the sky and easier to snatch off the ground. If any of them had stopped to think about it, the open field was about the worst way they could flee. But maybe they didn’t fully comprehend the dire situation they were facing. They probably hadn’t come to terms yet with the fact that the undead existed. Or maybe they didn’t realize we could fly.