Gift of the Nightflyer

by Sultry Summers

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jamie saw the towers of his father’s castle from a far distance, he was bone weary, and his soul was past the point of exhaustion. Little Jamie stirred in the crook of his arms and woke as if he knew he was home.

  “Poor wee lad,” Jamie said. “Now we have to tell your mother’s family she is gone and buried in a far away country, her poor mother. And for you my fine, brave, little son, a wet nurse and no more goats’ milk.”

  “Lord Jamie!” the driver called down. “There be a gypsy’s wagon in the road.”

  “Pass it by man, give it plenty of room,” Jamie called back. As they passed it, an old voice called out for them to stop. “Stop,” called Jamie up to his driver.

  “What is your trouble old woman?” Jamie asked, not particularly fond of gypsies but he did not want to incur their disfavor either and risk an ill spell from one.

  “It is not my troubles that worry me, milord,” the woman said, “but yours.”

  “What do you mean?” Jamie asked confused.

  “Even without me cards, I can see what your past has been and what your future holds. It is that clear to my powers.” Her voice was serious and Jamie could feel the hairs on his neck and arms stand up. “You’ve met a vampire!” she said without preamble. “Beware your son’s future, for his mother, God help her, was bitten twice while she carried your son. Only a woman with the mark of the Nightflyer on her right breast can save him. He will live a long life before he finds such a woman, and only then just before the change takes him will he find her.”

  “Old woman what are you talking about?” Jamie asked, still confused but something queer and familiar stirred in his soul.

  “Heed my words,” she railed at Jamie. “Tell your son, when he is old enough, to be careful of his future. He will live many long years into the future.” The wagon carrying her picked up speed and was quickly gone. Jamie was left behind to wonder what she meant. Her wagon disappeared even though there were no turn offs, and the road led to his home.

  Still some distance from home, though he could occasionally glimpse the towers growing closer, Jamie’s mind would no longer allow him to deny his thoughts about what had transpired over the past two months. It made little logical sense in the modern world of the late eighteen hundreds. People didn’t believe in witches, ghosts, and vampires anymore. Science was the new belief.

  Jamie remembered he had accused Count Magonoff of having a sad ghost, but he had not been truly serious. Now he wondered who had been weeping. Perhaps he should have investigated the sound, but to go and explore another man’s home was unthinkable. He remembered the night he fell and hit his head and the Count had found him unconscious. It had seemed odd that his head had not been sore from an impact. He remembered Lady Leslie had been on the terrace for a short period before he was unconscious. Of course, there were the two unexplained times when Margaret had been having extreme problems with the baby and the Count had calmed her. None of it added up. Jamie sighed, he only knew that he was without the only woman he had ever loved. The perfect woman now gone, but she had given him a beautiful son to carry on the Stuart family line.

  Now Jamie could see the Castle clearly. He had sent a dispatch ahead over a week ago, so they knew his arrival was imminent. By his dispatch, they knew Margaret was gone and roughly what had occurred. As Laird of his Clan, his father’s lookouts would have had spotted the carriage by now, and the household would be waiting for them. Jamie didn’t look forward to their questions, but it was unavoidable and he had few real answers. The carriage pulled to a halt in the Castle courtyard, before the great double doors. A footman opened the carriage door and Jamie handed his son into the waiting arms of his own mother, who took the child with tears of sad joy. She gave her own son a hug of mute compassion, her eyes full of sympathy at his loss, as soon as he stepped from the carriage. His father, Lord Stuart, forwent his usual handshake and hugged his son, then turned to gaze upon the first child born to the Stuart Clan of the next generation.

  “His name is Jamie, father, Margaret named him before she died.” Jamie, Sr. said simply, his voice cracked.

  “Tis glad I am you’re home son,” James Stuart said firmly. “Had we known Margaret was with child when you left…” He shook his head.

  “We talked about it father, Maggie and I, when we discovered she was pregnant. We started to remain in the South Pacific until after the child came, but decided we would have time to make it home. So many things happened on the way back. It was not a normal trip, and nothing went as it should. It was as if fate directed our feet where it wanted us to go.”

  “Let us go inside and get you and the baby settled, then you can tell the story to us all at once. Margaret’s family will be here soon,” Jamie’s mother explained. “We thought it would be easier for you to tell it once and get it over with.”

  “Do they know?” Jamie asked.

  “Yes, they know Margaret is gone, but not what happened. Really not much more than we do,” James told him. “You still retain the house and the lands, they will be for little Jamie and his heirs. We all agree on that. You two were married for that reason and it was a valid reason.”

  The sound of carriage wheels interrupted their conversation. The Kirk’s had arrived. Jamie stood and walked out to meet them. It was tense. He looked into the eyes of Margaret’s parents, her father’s face was stern, but he was a minister and that was normal for him. Her mother had been crying. No surprise there, Jamie’s mother placed little Jamie in her arms and the tears started to roll down her face, but she cooed to the baby and held him close. Margaret’s older brother shook his hand and her sister, just a year younger, stepped down from the carriage she too showed signs of weeping.

  “I am so sorry,” was all Jamie could say. It was a sad homecoming. It couldn’t be any other.

  Drinks were poured, then everyone found comfortable chairs. The maids placed trays of refreshments close at hand. Little Jamie was placed in an antique cradle, to be watched over by all and Jamie began his story of their trip home. He answered their questions as best he could. It had taken almost a month to reach home after Margaret’s death and though that month had been much less eventful, it still made for a remarkable story. Afterwards they sat down to dinner and Margaret’s parents remained for several days to get to know their grandson.

  Margaret’s younger sister, Beatrice, caught Jamie’s eye during the time they stayed.

  No two sisters could be so different. Where Margaret was a redheaded lass, her sister had dark brunette hair and a medium complexion compared to Margaret’s fair complexion. Margaret was slight and short, Beatrice taller and of more a sturdy build. Both girls were beautiful but in different ways. Margaret had a sweet disposition with a temper of fire. Beatrice’s disposition was mild and easy going, taking what life offered and handling the ups-and-downs, with only the most-extreme situations angering her.

  Over the next several months, Jamie was well cared for in his home by the staff and little Jamie’s nanny took good care of him. Beatrice, escorted by her brother or mother would call on Jamie to see the baby and the attraction between them grew. Jamie came to know that he cared for Beatrice and he approached her father for her hand in marriage. Moses Kirk was somewhat leery to allow his last daughter to marry Jamie Stuart but it was obvious she loved Jamie and the young man swore his days of travel were over. With her father’s consent, Beatrice and Jamie married. This time they celebrated their honeymoon at home.

  Jamie, Sr. found the two were alike in the bedroom. Both girls were tigresses when it came to sex. Beatrice was a virgin, as Jamie knew and was gentle with her on their wedding night.

  “Beatrice, my love,” Jamie said to her when he entered the bedroom after the bride had been ritually put to bed by both mothers and the other ladies of the wedding party. “You are truly beautiful.” She blushed bright red.

  “Jamie,” she said shyly, “I only will ask one thing of you. I loved my sister very much and I miss her. I
wish she had not died, but please do not compare her to me. Most of my life people have done that, she was always the older, more beautiful one with her bright red hair and fair complexion and her being so small. I have always been thought of as the plain one.” Beatrice looked down at her hands that were shaking as a tear fell on them.

  “Oh, Bea,” Jamie shortened her name as he had Margaret’s, “you are beautiful and most definitely not plain. I will not compare you to your sister, you are two separate women.” Jamie sat on the bed possessively placing an arm across her. He bent to kiss her lips his tongue teasing hers. He had kissed Bea before, but he had never gone farther with her, it wasn’t considered proper, and her father kept her well chaperoned. His lips traveled down her throat to her breasts that were ripe and full, she gasped. Jamie stopped to look at her. “Does this frighten you?”

  “No, my Jamie,” Beatrice said and though she was shaking she put her arms around him and pulled him closer.

  Jamie held her breasts in each hand and licked the nipples, then kissed each one before he began to suckle them. Bea sighed in pleasure and lay back to enjoy her new husband’s attentions. His hands searched her body, over her round curves and down to her mound. She gasped when his hands touched her cunt. No one had ever touched her there. His fingers combed through the thick matted dark hair a finger slipped between her cunt lips, she groaned. Her body had already responded to his touch and was wet, flowing with love’s honey. Her body prepared to loose its innocence. Beatrice’s body flamed when Jamie slipped a finger gently and slowly inside her. He didn’t hurt her but it was tight and uncomfortable, her body immediately responded by growing wetter and sent waves of liquid fire through her. Such sensations she didn’t know existed. She moved her hips on his fingers.

  “Not to fast, my bonnie wife,” Jamie cautioned. He felt his cock at his full growth and the steely organ demanding release.

  Her hands started to explore his body and wandered down to find his cock. She tentatively touched his dick, and drew away. “Oh, Jamie, you can’t put that in me, it will kill me.”

  “No, my love, it will not kill you. The first time for you will cause some discomfort but afterward there will only be pleasure, the most pleasure you can imagine.” Jamie tried to explain but knew only the experience would suffice.

  “Oh, Jamie, now I am afraid.” Beatrice said.

  Jamie covered her lips with his and started to arouse her now tense body. Had her mother told her nothing? He remembered Margaret and she had been the same.

  Soon she groaned from his fingers rubbing her clit and gently, her vagina. He kissed her breast and worked his way downward to suck on her cunt lips. In a matter of moments, Beatrice began to build toward her first climax. As she neared it, Jamie moved on top of her and continued to massage her clit with his fingers. He kissed her deeply and at the point she was ready to climax, Jamie began to breach her virginity.

  Beatrice found herself caught in a mist of warmth and overpowered by the bliss, so that at first, she felt only the pressure of her husband’s throbbing staff against her vagina. As the pleasure deepened, the pressure increased. Now there was a strange pain/pleasure, she grasped him to her. Now the pressure had given way to only pain but the pain brought a curious gratification.

  “Oh, Jamie! You are splitting me!” Beatrice cried, but held him tighter to her.

  “No, my love, you aren’t splitting, just a little more.” Jamie told her and swiftly pushed the remainder of the way through her barrier.

  Beatrice cried out as Jamie filled her to the length of his cock. He lay on top of her for a few moments and kissed her face, then her lips, before he started to move slowly and gently. Beatrice whimpered as the waves and sensation of ecstasy he created inside her filled her entire senses. She held him tightly to her, so he could not leave her. The sensations took her higher, as he drove his shaft into her. She began to meet his thrusts as her body experienced its first climax, her muscles clamping down on Jamie’s cock to pull him back into her with each thrust, until Jamie joined her in crying out his release. Her body pulled the semen from him. Exhausted Jamie lay on top of his new wife, amazed at her body’s power to please, she was a natural at sex, more so even than her sister had been.

  It had been a year since he had lost Margaret, marked by little Jamie’s first birthday. He appeared to be a normal child of a year to all who cared for him, but already Jamie, Sr. saw his young son had abilities that surpassed other children his age. As he grew, Jamie, Sr. and Beatrice had two more sons and three daughters. Six children in all and Jamie knew his oldest son had extraordinary abilities. Jamie knew without a doubt, the boy had been affected as the gypsy woman had warned and soon Jamie would be forced to explain what had happened when he was yet unborn. Jamie didn’t look forward to that day and wondered how long his son’s life would be, as the gypsy had predicted.

  When the day came for little Jamie, now a handsome young man, to leave home for college his father took him aside and explained the story to his son. To his surprise and relief young Jamie was already aware of the differences in himself and other young men.

  “Father,” Jamie said, “I’ve known for many a year that I’m not like others. Now I know why. I’ve decided to study medicine, blood chemistry eventually. Perhaps I can save myself. Either way, Father, I don’t blame you or my mother. This Count Magonoff is the villain here. Don’t worry sir, if I see that I cannot stop it I will…” He paused. “See my last sunrise before I take another’s life in that manner.” Then he had gone off to college. His father had seen him off at the train station that evening, tears in his eyes, remembering the love he had had for Margaret, now long dead and buried in a foreign land.

  A beautiful, young redheaded woman, with tears rolling down her Celtic-white face, stood watching the father and son’s parting from a darkened, shadowy corner of the train station. A tall dark-haired man stood with her, his arm around her in a comforting manner. Both unseen by Jamie, lost in his own sorrow until he turned to walk away as they did and something so familiar about the two struck him, that a pain shot through him and he had to sit down for a few moments. In almost a blur, they were gone but for a moment, it was like looking at Margaret and Count Magonoff, as they had looked eighteen years ago.

  “Oh, Jamie, your mind is playing tricks on ye.” he said softly to himself and drawing a deep, sad sigh returned to his carriage, his home, his other five children, and his loving wife Bea, who waited with understanding eyes and open arms.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The vampire lovers, Leslie and Carloff, traveled the cities of Europe while they enjoyed their nocturnal life together. Both were always careful to keep a low profile. Rarely did they kill, and when they did, they chose their victims amongst only those people of the street already proven to possess criminal dispositions.

  Leslie and Carloff also kept track of two important individuals: their old enemy, Count Magonoff, and an innocent boy named Jamie, for whose importance to them all, the couple had monitored his entire life.

  At Jamie’s graduation from medical school, Leslie and Carloff bestowed an ancient book upon him that Carloff had long ago purchased from the old gypsy woman. The anonymous gift, though greatly appreciated, puzzled Jamie, and further convinced him of a gloomy fate he already feared. Jamie added the text to his growing library of vampire folklore, and the writings found within the book spurred him on to find a medical cure for his suspected condition.

  However, Jamie was not alone. In their own race to find a cure for the vampire malady, Count Magonoff and his beloved Margaret had studied their predicament from the beginning of their time together after Jamie’s birth. Through the great learning centers of Europe, they had found no clues to a solution to their condition.

  Now, Jamie was just beginning his mission in search of a cure. An expedition for knowledge, which would lead the Count and Jamie’s paths to cross repeatedly–even perilously–over their vast life spans. Jamie, as a mortal, at least until he in his exten
ded mortal’s life would begin to change into an immortal, and that which he feared becoming, a vampire.

  Count Magonoff had been thirty-seven when he had tasted Margaret’s blood before Jamie’s birth, and begun the process that slowed his aging. When his mortal body reached that age, he would begin to change into the feared vampire, unless he found the woman who carried the Mark of the Nightflyer on her right breast, as the ancient book Tales of the Nightflyer had warned–only she could save him. Ironically, she could also save the Count, and this would set the two on a collision course.

  In the modern world the ancient, worn gypsy books would bring Count Magonoff and Jamie together again for one last, and very unexpected–and violent–conflict.

  Bio

  As Sheila N. Eskew, I am possibly better known as Sultry Summers, my naughty twin who writes erotica. As Sheila, I write Romance and have published under that name but possibly, I am better known for the three books written as Sultry, stories from Gothic Vampires to a lighthearted, crash-landed alien, rescued on Christmas Eve, by a sexy Wyoming rancher. I am proud to be among the Venus Press authors with two books due to be available soon. Atlantis Vortex as Sheila N. Eskew, a Paranormal Romance that will thrill readers with the astounding plot and spicy romance, and as Sultry a story included in Venus Press’ Son’s of Zeus series, Trojan Gold, an erotic story involving a trip to Troy. Many readers and authors also know me as “Orange”, the Chat Coordinator for The Romance Studio.

  See other books by this author at,

  www.venuspress.com