The King's Vampire

by Brenda Stinnett

  “How can you be sure the building of St. Paul’s is truly the will of God?” Darius turned and looked into Christopher Wren’s dark sunken eyes, which burned like fiery coals.

  “Through God’s great grace, I’m given the intention to build beautiful buildings that honor the majesty of God. If you listen, then you will hear what God’s will is for you. Just remember to listen and focus on what it is he whispers in your ear. Remember, if the message comes to you in a great shout, then it’s probably not from God, but rather man. God speaks softly.”

  Suddenly, Darius realized his life wasn’t about him and what he could do, but about God’s grace and how his will was to be done. He leapt up from the altar, and grasped Sir Christopher Wren by the hand. “I thank you, Sir Wren.”

  “Life is magical when we follow the will of God. No matter what we do or what we want, there’s always a power far greater than us. Follow and trust that power.”

  “I believe I understand now.”

  Remember, it’s never about us,” the great architect said, “but rather about what is for the greater good in our world.”

  Bowing, Darius stepped back outside into the bright sunlight, knowing he had to find Elizabeth soon. He wouldn’t fail her again. He couldn’t.

  Chapter 30

  Elizabeth awoke, screaming aloud. At first, she thought she was trapped inside a coffin, but quickly realized it was merely velvet draperies closed tightly around her on a narrow bed. She slipped out of the bed and found a candlestick in the near-darkness. Nightfall must be coming on apace. How long had she been in this place? She lit the candles in the sconces on the walls, making her surroundings appear less threatening.

  It was a simple room, with an oak wardrobe and bureau in one corner, and a nightstand with a china pitcher and bowl in another. Where could she be? The last thing she recalled was the battle between Darius, the shape-shifters, and the demons. Darius had struck a demon which had been attacking her and then she’d collapsed. All she remembered after that was being scooped up, and the smell of rotting death smothering her before she was transported to this place. Searching the room, she hoped to find clues to where she might be. She tried to force open the huge oak door, but it was built solidly and bolted securely.

  The sound of high heels clacking down the hallway caught her attention, so she paused before grabbing a silver hairbrush from the bureau. It made a pitiful weapon, but at least it was better than nothing. She heard the rattle of keys and then a creaking sound as the door opened. She stood pressed against the wall with her silver brush lifted over her shoulder.

  “For the love of God, what do you think you’re doing?” Nell Gwynn shouted when Elizabeth brought the brush down upon her head. She shoved Elizabeth’s hand away, and the two women scuffled for a few minutes before both stepped away, panting heavily.

  “Nelly, why are you keeping me prisoner? I thought we were friends.”

  Nelly smoothed down the front of her gown and shook out her riotous curls. “Why are you waving my own hairbrush at me like it’s a sword?”

  “Answer my question first.”

  Her plump cheeks quivered as she spoke. “I’m sorry. It’s that devil, Buckingham. He brought you here and told me to keep you under lock and key if I wanted royal titles for my sons. He promised he’d make sure the king did right by my boys if I kept you here.”

  “I must leave to find Darius.” Elizabeth forced herself to remain calm.

  “How can you go anywhere looking like such a ragamuffin? You look worse than I ever did, even when I was an orange girl on the streets of London.”

  Elizabeth glanced in the full-length gilt mirror on the wall and took in the image of her ripped dress, dirt-stained face, and tangled hair. She had scratches running up and down her arms. “You’re right. I need a warm bath and a change of clothes before I leave.”

  “I’m sorry I agreed to hold you here for Buckingham, but he’s such a bloody bully he forced me to it. Let me have my maid draw you a bath and I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear. They’ll be too large, but I imagine they’ll do all right in a pinch.”

  After the maid prepared her bath, Elizabeth soaked in the tub full of warm water and tried to consider what she must do next. Why had Buckingham wanted to keep her prisoner? What had happened to Julian and the psychic demons? These were questions that needed answering straight away.

  Nelly came into the room and threw a robe across the top of tub for Elizabeth’s privacy, and then she pulled up a small gilt chair close to her. “Can you tell me what this is all about between you and Buckingham and Charles? What does Darius have to do with any of it?”

  Once Elizabeth started talking, she couldn’t stop. She’d spilled out the entire story all the way from the beginning when she’d asked for forgiveness from the priest. Relieved to have the entire story out in the open, she looked to see what Nelly thought, whether she was shocked or thought her mad, but Nelly seemed naively accepting of her explanation.

  “Then you haven’t much time, have you? Christmas Eve is tomorrow.” She put a plump arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder and her mahogany eyes gleamed with compassion. “Do you have any way of getting your soul back by then?”

  “One priest suggested if I helped King Charles regain his faith, I might recapture my own soul.”

  Nelly gave a bark of laughter. “Good luck. Charles has no belief left in anyone or anything, except for maybe himself.”

  “I must try.”

  “I think you’d have a better chance of changing the spots on a leopard than converting him to any faith at all, but I’d be willing to help you in any way I can. He loves me, even though he can be a cheap bastard, pardon my French.”

  “Then what must I do?” She stood up from the bath, and Nelly tossed her a towel and some clothes to wear.

  Nelly furrowed her fine, dark eyebrows. “Give me leave to think about it some more. I’ll let you have privacy to get dressed, Your Ladyship.” She started to back out of the room.

  “Oh, do call me Elizabeth.” Nelly nodded before she closed the door.

  After dressing in the silk lavender gown with Venetian lace trimming the bosom Nelly had given her, Elizabeth tried to make some semblance of order to her russet curls. At last she gave up, and piled most of her hair on top of her head, with only two curls trailing down on either side of her cheeks. The dress was loose fitting, but it was the right length for her small stature. The lace in the front dipped rather low across her breasts.

  An insistent rapping on the door caused her to call out, “Oh, do come in, Nelly.”

  It wasn’t Nelly, though. Buckingham stepped through the doorway, looking as immaculate as ever. He wore no periwig and his own blond hair was clubbed and pulled back. “Madame, what a pleasure it is to see you again.”

  “What do you want now, Buckingham?”

  His natural hair was thinning, and his forehead was boney and more pronounced. His eyebrows were painted a dark black, creating a stark contrast with his pale skin. Elizabeth felt she could see through his thin skin to the demon he would become one day.

  “Elizabeth, have you no gratitude for my rescuing you from Julian?”

  “If you saved me from Julian, it was for nothing more than your own twisted purposes.”

  “How very cynical of you, my dear,” he said with a smirk.

  “Stop treating me like a mouse caught in a trap. I need to feed, so I’d appreciate it if you’d let me outside so I can find some small creatures.” She spoke calmly, but she felt the feeding frenzy building up within her, causing her heart to hammer and sweat to break out on her forehead.

  Buckingham smiled, his teeth looking too large and his smile looking too wide. “I believe I can do even better.”

  “Tell me what you have in mind.” She didn’t like the look in those vacuous blue eyes of his, and she didn’t like his taunting tone.

  “If we stroll through St. James Park, we’ll come to the St. James Palace. The king’s there, and anxious to mee
t with you.”

  Feeling her feeding frenzy mounting, Elizabeth thought she understood what Buckingham’s game was. He figured she’d grow desperate to feed, and if she was in King Charles’s company, she might very well feed upon him. “I have no wish to see him at this time.” She spun away from Buckingham.

  “I’m sorry, madam, but I don’t really care what you want, or what you need. Did you know the king is supposed to be a father to his people? And with Charles, he’s certainly been a father to a good many of them.” His booming laughter rang out as he led her out into the clear, crisp night. “So, let’s now make him the vampire to his people.”

  With dread, Elizabeth followed.

  Chapter 31

  Darius strode along the path, the moon darting in and out between the tree-lined paths of St. James Park. He’d wasted all day searching for Elizabeth, grief and anguish ripped through his chest. Maybe he wasn’t going to find her.

  But then a sudden tightening of his stomach muscles and a racing of his heart told him he’d picked up Elizabeth’s scent. She’d been on this path recently, and if his nose didn’t deceive him, she was full of bloodlust.

  He stiffened when he recognized a faintly rotting scent mingled with her smell. It had the foul stench of a psychic vampire demon, only perhaps one not as strong as Julian. He feared she wasn’t traveling of her own free will. He started to run when he realized her scent led toward St. James’s Palace. He moved so swiftly and silently, he seemed a swirling shadow in the moonlit night.

  Already, another day was wasted and there was one night before Christmas, and then Elizabeth would lose her soul forever. He couldn’t fail her again. Darius drew in a deep breath. In spite of the coolness of the evening, he broke out into a light, cool sweat.

  What had Sir Christopher Wren told him? He must count on his faith in the power of God over the demons, rather than trust in his own abilities. God would give him the power, but he must be the one to take action. Wind whistled through the trees, and then, a frightening howl assaulted his ears. He paused, stopping stock-still.

  A silver, black-tipped wolf bounded from out of the trees. The wolf appeared to stretch out longer, his fur disappeared, his ears rounded into human form. He stood on two legs and his front legs turned into muscled arms. His pelt disappeared except for a shock of silver hair on his head, and a black pelt of fur formed a V-shape on his chest. He didn’t take his yellow eyes off Darius and his bulky shoulders hunched forward.

  Darius tossed the fellow his long riding cloak. “Here, take this. You might have need of it, since the night’s turned quite cold. What kept you so long?”

  Lance caught the cloak and fastened it beneath his chin. The cloak came down to his ankles, covering his nakedness. “Thanks, Your Lordship. I had to calm down the pack before I found you. They’re not happy about the thought of battling the psychic vampire demons again.”

  “Who can blame them?” Darius nodded in the direction of St. James Palace. “I think I’ve found Elizabeth.”

  “A demon is with her—not a powerful demon—but a demon all the same.” Lance stated it as a fact, not a question.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think she’s gone to see the king?” Lance asked.

  “I’m not sure it’s by her choice, but yes, I believe she’s headed that way.”

  “Why would a demon take her to see Charles?” Lance stared blankly.

  “The demons want to force her into making Charles a vampire. We can’t let that happen. I’ve got to protect her and the king. Let’s hurry. It grows late.”

  Lance started to say something, but then hesitated.

  “What?” Darius asked impatiently.

  “Elizabeth is a strong woman. I know I doubted her once as much as you did, but she’s proven herself to be courageous. I don’t believe you give her enough credit.”

  “I know that.” Darius couldn’t bring himself to confess he needed Elizabeth, rather than the reverse, and that she was his whole heart and he couldn’t envision life without her.

  The sentry posted at the main entrance recognized Darius. He waved them past, while darting a curious look in Lance’s direction, who wore nothing but the cape wrapped from his neck to his ankles, padding along with his large bare feet exposed.

  The palace appeared deserted, still, Darius walked cautiously, feeling a thousand eyes stare down on him. He smelled his own fear and he knew a demon could smell it, too. He knew psychic vampire demons fed upon it. The soulless immortal vampires need not fear damnation, but the psychic vampires were far worse, because they could lead others to damnation.

  “The scent is stronger. He’s here. Julian’s here,” Lance said in a gravelly voice.

  “I know.” Darius fought back panic because he’d lost Elizabeth’s scent, but then he realized Julian’s foul stench might be drowning out her smell.

  Darius and Lance followed the rotting scent to a spiral staircase leading to a chamber below. When they headed downward, the staircase continued on to a rock tunnel carved from the castle itself. Without a word, Lance handed Darius his cloak and turned back into a wolf. He padded along beside Darius, snuffling and sniffing at every nook and crevice.

  Now that Lance was in wolf form, Darius had nobody to distract him from his own thoughts, and those thoughts raced to Elizabeth. Lance had been right, she was a strong woman who could take care of herself, but that would never prevent Darius from trying to protect her with his last dying breath.

  The unbidden thought came that he might never again get the opportunity to tell her he loved her. This left him with such a sense of rage and abandonment he had to quell the thought so he could focus on the business at hand.

  Along the passageway, torches in wall brackets were lit. The light cast eerie shadows against the walls. At the end of the tunnel, they came to a huge, musty room. Coffin-like rectangular containers appeared against the walls of the chamber. Darius took in a deep breath and choked on the scent of corrupted flesh and the putrefaction of old blood. Lance’s hackles rose and he snarled. Darius spun around to face the pus-rotted eyes of Julian.

  That dreaded, blood-filled voice rasped at Darius. “You’re too late. On this Christmas Eve, Buckingham has delivered Elizabeth safely to me and she has made King Charles II an immortal vampire. Now the Stuarts will rule forever, leaving the psychic vampire demons free to open the abyss of the damned and control the world.”

  Darius grimaced. Julian’s words brought a stab of physical pain to his chest. In his fear and fury, he raised an arm and flames flew from his fingertips, directed toward Julian. Julian lifted his great leather wings, which had already healed from their last battle, and the fire rolled off him, causing the suffocating heat to fly back in Darius’s face.

  Lance bravely lunged toward the demon, but he struck the wolf with a blow of his skeletal hand that caused Lance to bounce against the stone wall before falling to the ground. Julian raised his skeletal hands and shackled Lance to the wall with a huge manacle that hung around his neck.

  Darius refused to recoil from Julian. “Elizabeth will never become like you. She’s too good, too pure to ever stoop to your level, so you may as well set her free.”

  “That’s where you are wrong, my noble friend. Elizabeth is one who makes the perfect immortal vampire. Do you know why?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I will it or no.”

  “Few vampires survive over the centuries because immortality on earth is a chore that only exceptional vampires can handle. It takes the ultimate courage to remain in a world ever changing while vampires remain the same. True vampires must want life at any cost to continue on, but most would rather succumb to death than face continuous change. Yet Elizabeth is one of those immortals brave enough to face the world no matter how much it might change. I believe Charles Stuart is one such human as well.”

  “You’ll not have either of them.”

  Julian smiled a hideous, fanged-smile. “I already have them both under my co
ntrol.”

  Darius raised both arms to fire more lightning bolts at Julian but the demon lifted his claws first, and diverted the sizzling flames and then formed manacles. Darius looked down to find his wrists now shackled in iron to a mildewed wall of the chamber. He screamed in rage at Julian.

  Julian clucked his tongue in disdain and gave his blood-clotted laugh. “When will you learn you’re no match for me? You make a pitiable demon slayer. I shall go now and bring Elizabeth and King Charles back to demonstrate how miserably you’ve failed before I destroy you completely.”

  The muscles in Darius’s face tightened. His mouth slashed diagonally in fury. His gray eyes glittered dangerously. Still, he managed to speak in a soft, composed voice. “Let’s be reasonable, Julian.”

  “Always, you have believed reasoning and fairness play a part in our world. Elizabeth and Charles will be my vampires, and I’ll free all the psychic vampire demons from the abyss to rule the earth forever. Reason will soon become only a memory of the ancient past.” Julian stretched out his leathered wings and rose into the air. The next thing Darius knew, he vanished.

  Darius lurched forward, in a vain attempt to free his wrists from the shackles, but they were bound so tightly, he could not generate any fiery energy from his hands or fingertips. He glanced over at Lance, who appeared unconscious, and remained shackled to the wall. No doubt Julian would deal with them after he had the opportunity to gloat over the fact that Elizabeth and Charles were under his control.

  “I have to find Elizabeth before it’s too late,” he said aloud.

  He couldn’t panic now. What had Charlemagne told him? He must keep faith that God would provide him the strength he needed for the task at hand. And Christopher Wren told him it was God’s intention for him to listen to what he needed to do. God hadn’t wanted him to be a Benedictine monk, and instead, he’d become a warrior.