Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales

by Laura Greenwood

  “He did?” Rob nodded solemnly. I wondered how many other historical figures had died back then. During the height of the Covid pandemic, I had watched in horror as the casualties mounted in the city and then over the country and the world. Almost every day, it seemed that another artist or actor or random decent person was being struck down.

  Nick Cordero and Terrence McNally, and Ellis Marsalis, Jr.

  “Do you like art?” he said, which derailed my melancholy thoughts.

  “That’s a question, isn’t it?” I pointed to the street below, where the lights of the traffic were making a pattern. “Is that art?”

  “Art is in the eye of the beholder.”

  “So if you see something and you think it’s art, is it art?”

  “What is art,” he countered. “What is the difference between a fake and a forgery and an homage?

  “I heard an art thief pose that question once,” he said.

  “You seem to have an eclectic group of acquaintances,” I said.

  He sort of shrugged. “He said most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between an original or a copy. And he proved it because he used to leave behind copies when he stole his pictures.”

  “And no one ever knew?”

  “Lots of museums got fooled by fakes,” he said, “ordinary people had no idea.”

  I knew that a lot of museums had fakes on their walls. The percentage was shockingly high. “And then there’s art that is ugly, or disturbing, but people buy it anyway because they’ve been told the artist is important and collectible.”

  “You sound annoyed by that,” he said.

  “It annoys me that people can’t just appreciate things because they are. I hate it that people seem to think nothing is valuable unless they can put a price tag on it.”

  “Maybe that’s the only way some people know hot to judge something’s value.”

  “What’s the most precious thing you own?” I said and was surprised by the look of sadness that drifted across his handsome face.

  ‘My mother’s wedding ring,” he said. “She never wore it to work, so when she died, it was still sitting in a little dish on her dresser.”

  “She died at work?” That’s horrible. “What happened?”

  “There was a fire at the factory where she worked.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s a famous fire,” he said. “All the reformers used to talk about it.”

  I was starting to get a little tingle on the back of my neck. “When did your mother die?”

  “In 1911,” he said.

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but pretending your mother died in the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire is pretty effed up.”

  I stood up too quickly and nearly fell. Rob caught me and pulled me back.

  His hands were cold. And strong.

  “I’m not lying Kennedy,” he said.

  “Your hands are cold,” I said. “We should go in.”

  “I can prove it.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a wallet. Tucked in behind a flap was a rectangle of yellowish paper. It had his photograph on it, a black and white photograph centered in a circle on the left side of the document.

  “Anyone could have photoshopped that,” I said.

  He nodded to himself, as though I was confirming something.

  “Maybe this will convince you,” he said and stepped off the roof. I screamed, but he didn’t fall, just sort of stood there hovering.

  Holy shit.

  “You’re not lying,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “I was born in September, in the year nineteen hundred.”

  “And when did you--?”

  “Die?” he asked. “On Christmas Eve, in nineteen twenty.”

  So you’re what, a ghost? An angel? A vampire? All those questions ran through my head but what I said was, ““So Christmas is not your favorite holiday,” I said.

  “Your reaction to my revelation is remarkably calm.”

  “It only seems that way,” I said. “I make jokes when I’m stressed.”

  “It was not my intention to distress you,” he said. “But I do feel melancholy every year at this time and I didn’t want to be alone.”

  He looked at me with eyes so clear and blue I felt like I could fall into them and drown. “I saw you here, and you looked so lovely and lonely that I thought maybe you would understand something of what I feel.”

  I felt myself blushing. “Are you casting a glamor on me?”

  “No,” he said. “That’s an old wives’ tale, like the story we don’t reflect in a mirror.”

  We being vampires. “Why are you alone?”

  “I was disappointed in love when I was younger and I’ve never really been able to fall in love again.”

  “Love sucks,” I said.

  “Do you really think so?”

  “No,” I admitted. “But falling in love with the wrong person does.”

  “Who has disappointed you, Kennedy?”

  “His name is Connor,” I said. “And he is not the person I want him to be.” Rob didn’t say anything, so I went on. “But I realized today that the real problem is that I am not the person I want to be when I am with him.

  “I want to talk about books and art and places I want to see and things I want to do. I want to discuss things that matter and not just rehash the last television show I watched or tell him what a good game he played.”

  “He is a sportsman?”

  “He plays basketball,” I said. “It’s all he cares about.”

  “He cares about it more than he cares about you?”

  I didn’t want to answer that question, so I changed the subject. “He is one of those people who can’t just sit and enjoy the silence. I brought him up here once and he wanted to leave after a few minutes because it was windy and his hands were cold.”

  “Not very romantic,” Rob said.

  “Are you a romantic Rob?”

  “I have been told I am a gentleman,” he said. “It was once my most fervent wish to be a gentleman.”

  “Women like gentlemen,” I said. “At least women who haven’t been brainwashed into thinking that bad boys are more fun.”

  “I used to be a thief,” he said, “and some would have called me a villain.”

  Villain, such a delightfully old-fashioned word.

  “Were you a thief of hearts?” I asked him and I had no idea where that question came from.

  “I never stole what was freely offered,” he said and the look he gave me then was so searching that I felt it to my soul. Or somewhere lower down.

  “It must be terrible to live such a long life by yourself.”

  “I have not been without companionship,” he said. “Do not pity me.”

  “I don’t pity you,” I said. “I just wonder how you fill your days.”

  “I live by night,” he said. “And my nights are full.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said. “I was only curious.”

  “What else are you curious about?” he asked me and I could feel there was weight behind his words, like we were playing a verbal game with stakes way way out of proportion to the question.

  I shivered then, suddenly cold.

  “If you kissed me, you would not be cold,” he said, taking my hand in his two cold hands.

  “Your hands are cold.”

  “But I do not feel the chill.”

  “A kiss?” I said, because I was tempted. “Only a kiss?”

  “It’s Christmas,” he said. “A Christmas kiss.”

  I looked at him, weighing my options. On the one hand, he was a beautiful man, with thick dark hair and those blue eyes. His voice had just a touch of an Irish accent—like Liam Neeson only younger.

  “One kiss,” I said.

  “One kiss,” he agreed.

  And for just a moment, the city noise faded away as he took my face in his hands and gently touched his lips to mine.

  I leaned into the
kiss and opened my mouth to his exploratory tongue and then he bit down on his lower lip so that a bit of his blood flowed into my mouth. I swallowed involuntarily, not completely disgusted but a little weirded out.

  I drew back. “What did you do that for?

  “I promised you that after one kiss you wouldn’t be cold.”

  “Have you turned me into a vampire?” I asked, horrified by the thought.

  “No, I’ve just given you a taste of vampire blood to keep you from feeling the cold.”

  That could be useful, I thought, but I still thought it weird.

  “Would that be so bad?” he asked. “To be made a vampire?”

  “Maybe not if you’d asked permission,” I said, “but yes.”

  “You do not love the night?”

  “I would miss the sun,” I said. “Moonlight is beautiful but its light doesn’t warm.”

  He looked sad. “I hardly remember what it was like to feel the sun’s warmth on my skin.”

  “I’m so sorry Rob,” I said. “I wish…I wish there was more I could give you.” I thought of the watch I had flung at Connor, wished suddenly I could give it to Rob. As what? A souvenir? A consolation prize?

  He smiled at me then, a surprisingly sweet smile. “This has been the best birthday I’ve had for many a year. Do not apologize.”

  I might have said more, but then I heard the sound of the access door closing.

  “Kennedy?”

  “It’s my little brother,” I said to Rob as Tyler came around the corner, wearing his plaid Christmas jammies with his snow jacket over them.

  “Kennedy you were going to read me a story,” he said. “I waited and waited.”

  Then he noticed Rob. “Hi,” he said. “Are you Kennedy’s new boyfriend?”

  “Tyler,” I said.

  “She just broke up with Connor,” Tyler said. “He was a turd.”

  “Tyler,” I said again, mortified and wondering exactly how my little brother knew so much about my love life. “This is Rob. It’s his birthday.”

  “Really?” Tyler said. “Does that mean you get two presents at Christmas or just one?”

  “I don’t really celebrate,” Rob said.

  “That’s no fun,” Tyler said. “You should come in. My parents are giving a party and there’s all kinds of food and stuff.”

  Rob smiled again and the expression transformed his face. And I remembered that he had told me his mother had died when he was eleven, just Tyler’s age. I felt a rush of grief for the little boy he must have been.

  “Maybe next year,” he said, looking at me. “You can tell me about all the adventures you’ve had.”

  “And you can tell me if you’ve found someone to share your nights with.”

  “You already know that I have, Kennedy.”

  Too soon. Too soon. But Rob had time on his side and so did I. Maybe I would feel differently in a year. Maybe he wouldn’t come back.

  Maybe I drank too many glasses of wine punch and this is all a dream.

  “Good night Kennedy,” Rob said. “Nice to meet you Tyler,” Rob said, and with that, he headed for the access door.

  I was relieved he hadn’t just leaped from the roof and floated down, but I guess he didn’t want to leave me the job of explaining that vampires exist to an eleven-year-old.

  “Come on,” I said to Tyler. “Let’s get some cookies and then I’ll read you a story.”

  “Okay,” he said and slipped his hand into mine. “How come you’re not cold?”

  * * *

  The End

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  About the Author

  Kat Parrish is an internationally bestselling author. A former reporter, she prefers making things up. An Army brat, her motto is "Have passport, will travel." She has lived in seven states and two foreign countries and would love to celebrate her 100th birthday with a trip into space. She lives in the Pacific Northwest near a haunted cemetery.

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  Read More of Kat’s Books

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  The Shadow Palace Trilogy

  Once Upon a Fact (A Fairy Tale Anthology)

  Death in the Drowned Lands: An Anthology for the World

  Tales of the Misbegotten: An L.A. Nocturne Collection

  Cursed by Christmas

  Dynasty of Blood Saga: A Christmas Story

  Stephany Wallace

  About Cursed by Christmas

  I thought making it through Christmas Eve was going to be easy…

  * * *

  What the hell was I thinking? I should have known that with a brand-new empire under my ruling, an evil Witch not on the guest list, a Gargoyle Shifter, Vampire Slayers, and humans all in the crazy mix that was my family, things would be everything but perfect.

  * * *

  Whoever said Happily Ever After was the end, clearly didn't know any Vampires.

  * * *

  The question remains, will we survive this party, or be forever changed by it?

  Chapter 1

  Cetatea din Dracul—The Fortress of the Dragon.

  Transylvania, Romania…

  * * *

  COUNTESS DARIAH

  * * *

  Snow peaked mountains stretched over the horizon as I stood on the balcony of our palace, looking out onto my kingdom.

  A million snow covered roofs peppered the cities in the distance as far as my eye could see, contrasting beautifully against their red brick facades and reminding me of sweet peppermint candy. One by one, twinkly Christmas lights began to shimmer over the houses and through their windows, announcing the night had begun to fall.

  It was officially Christmas Eve.

  I had never really considered myself to be a Christmas person, you know, with being a ruthless bloodsucking Vampiress, yah? At least not during what I now called the years of darkness, when my identity was stolen from me, the truth about my life hidden for what seemed like an eternity—not a term an immortal Vampiri would ever use lightly. We knew the real meaning behind forever.

  And yet, as I glanced over the lands that witnessed my parents fall in love, creating a legend that would change the course of our world, an air of accomplishment, happiness, and even hope illuminated my being. This land had seen me grow up among people who swore to protect me, and who risked anything, even when I unknowingly declared them my enemies. When I couldn’t remember they were actually my family.

  My kingdom had suffered under the betrayal of blind ambition, fear, discrimination, and greed, but it had also been witness to the power of love and truth. A year ago, I had reclaimed my legacy, my birthright, supported by the very family I had once forgotten, and by a man who changed my life in every possible way.

  Now, after a year of fighting the remnants of the despicable poison the Străbun Dynasties had spread, we were truly free, and the Adevărată Imperiu—the True Empire was alive once again.

  It hadn’t been easy to unite the Vampir race after the war, to show them life in peace with the humans was possible, but we had done it. The family I had chosen to be part of my life and I had accomplished it together.

  Strong arms wrapped around my body from behind just as a chilled breeze swept by me, and goosebumps erupted along my skin, spreading all over my body. Though I wasn’t entirely sure which of the two had caused it.

  That was lie. It was Mathew. It was always Mathew.

  “You know what I’m craving?” his deep and delicious voice asked in my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below, making me shiver.

  “A spiced peppermint mocha with whipped cream?” I teased. “Because I could really go for one of those.”

  Mathew’s chest shook against
my back with his earthy laughter, delighting me, and sending a bout of happiness through me. His large hands gripped my waist instantly, turning me around to face him.

  Eagerly, my arms wrapped around his neck and I pulled him close, letting him claim me with an enticing kiss. Mmm… “Maybe I am craving the same thing you are.” My lips curled into a sinful smirk as I glanced up to look at him.

  “Good answer, baby.” Giving me a naughty, crooked smirk, he leaned down to kiss me again and my chin lifted to meet him.

  The sound of flapping wings echoed around us that instant, their movement creating a wind burst so strong that it forced us against the wall. We turned around to see the large Gargoyle Shifter gliding towards us with his Dragon-like wings.

  “Hi, Ivas,” I greeted, my voice reflecting the love I felt for the one being that had been with me unwaveringly through my darkness, protecting me, and being my loyal companion even when I didn’t know who I was.

  To anyone other than us, his presence would incite fear. My Gargoyle was what many would call a creature of nightmares, with a body that resembled that of a man—though he had no private parts—a bald head with a beak-like mouth, Vampir fangs jutting from it, sunken empty eyes, and pointed ears. Clawed fingers extended from his hands, large wings, and even a crest atop the center of his head, that like his other traits, reminded you of a Dragon.

  Ivas’ smooth leathery skin shone under the sconces of the fortress when he landed on the balcony, wobbling when he used his wings to come to us, like extra legs.

  Sitting before us in a crouch, he rested both hands on the ground between his feet, and nudged Mathew’s palm with his head—asking for his caress. Ivas might look like he’d escaped a nightmare, but he was as sweet and loyal as a puppy.

  Unless you wanted to hurt me or my family in any way, then he would rip you apart without hesitation. No, I was not exaggerating.