History of the Vampire (The Vanderlind Castle Series Book 4)

by Gayla Twist

  There was a tap at the door while we were all settling in for our four day journey. “Bonjour,” a young woman in a maid’s uniform said as she let herself into our shared accommodations. “Oh,” she exclaimed, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to be in the rooms. “You must forgive me,” she said, her cheeks turning quite red. “I had expected that everyone would be on deck for the launch of the boat. I am just here to turn down your beds for the night.”

  Seeing the young woman’s blush reflex made my stomach contract with hunger. She was a beautiful, petite thing with bobbed hair and painted lips. I forced my mind to think of my luggage, which contained a dozen bottles of blood, all neatly tucked between ample padding.

  “You want I should come back later?” she asked. I placed her accent as French, but probably not from Paris.

  I glanced over at Emily, who shook her head just the tiniest bit. I was grateful to her. I think she understood that I was struggling with my newly acquired dietary restrictions and she didn’t want temptation to stumble in my path in the form of a shapely servant.

  “We won’t need bed service during our voyage,” I told the maid.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked, looking from me to my sister and then back again. “Some water? Or ice, perhaps?”

  “Just solitude, I think,” I told her. We really didn’t need one of those forward maids who was always barging in to see if anything was needed. “We’ve both had a bout of scarlet fever so we’re looking for an uneventful voyage with plenty of peace and quiet.”

  “You poor things,” she clucked. “Then I shall bring you some broth to strengthen your blood.” The maid was remarkably persistent and she kept peeking at me, shyly, in a way that let me know that she was probably new to her job and desperate to make a good impression.

  “No thank you. We are in need of nothing.” I assured her. “And besides, if we do happen to have some urgent need, then there’s always my sister’s governess to take care of us both.”

  “Very good,” said the maid, glancing briefly in Mrs. Denkler’s direction. “Then I shall leave you to have a pleasant journey.”

  Once the maid had gone, Emily walked over to me and took my hand. “Are you feeling well enough to go up on deck? I would love to be there when we launch.” She gave me a hesitant smile. “And maybe toss some of those paper streamers into the air.”

  I knew Emily was worried about me mingling with the mortal crowd up on deck. She was such a little doll to be so concerned for me. She had always been quite the considerate child. And I didn’t want to deny her the enjoyment of our grand departure. “Just give me a moment in my cabin and we can head right up,” I told her. “Now that you mention it, I think I’d like to toss some paper streamers myself.”

  In my cabin, I opened the small trunk that held most of the food I would use on our voyage. There were twelve quart bottles to last me four days. It seemed like an excessive amount, but I had the keen hunger common to most fledglings and there was also always the risk of bad weather while we were at sea. We didn’t want a delay of a day or two leading to disaster. I kept another two small pint bottles in a valise in case of emergencies, but I hoped I wouldn’t need them.

  Unsealing the wax around one of the quart bottles, I pulled the cork and took a long pull. “Oh...” I couldn’t help but sigh and close my eyes, savoring the moment. It tasted so good.

  “Hurry up,” Emily called, rapping on my cabin door. “The boat’s about to leave.”

  “Coming!” I called, setting the bottle down and searching for the cork. I thought I’d put it on the table, but it was nowhere to be found. “Go ahead with Mrs. Denkler,” I called out as I searched. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  “She doesn’t want to go,” my sister informed me. “She says she has too much unpacking to do.”

  Where was that blasted cork? I hated to leave the bottle just sitting open.

  “Jessie,” my little sister called. “We’ve got to go now or we’ll miss everything.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I told her, setting the bottle down on the sink of the small bathroom that was part of my cabin. As I was striding toward the door, the trunk holding my food supply caught my eye. I’d told the maid we didn’t need anything, so we weren’t expecting anyone in the rooms, but just to be on the safe side, I snapped the trunk closed and locked it. Better safe than sorry. I didn’t want to end up eyeing every mortal passenger on the ship like they were sides of beef.

  Our departure was actually quite enjoyable. There was the excitement in the air that always seems to accompany the start of a journey. People cheered and waved to their loved ones standing on the shore. There were paper streamers, just like in the movies, and Emily had a delightful time letting them tumble from her fingers and trail over the side of the ship.

  I was doing well. Even though the ship’s deck was crowded, I felt I had control over my hunger. I caught a glimpse of my mother and grandfather out of the corner of my eye, standing separately and observing the festivities. Daniel was nowhere to be found, but he never was one to mingle with mortals, even when he was a mortal.

  There was a shift in the crowd as some noisy young men roughly surged through it. I could smell the beer on their breath, which explained their heightened jocularity. People were being jostled and a few of them even stumbled. I instinctively put my arm around my little sister to protect her from the high spirited youths. Emily looked up at me and smiled.

  “You’re a little old for her, aren’t ya?” one of the young men asked. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty. His face was a ruddy pink from alcohol.

  I gave the fellow a sharp look, but decided the best course of action was to ignore him.

  Emily, being on the verge of young womanhood, felt embarrassed by his comment. “He’s my brother,” she told him.

  The young man smiled. “Does that mean you’re free?” he said, his mouth spreading into a lascivious grin. “This is my lucky day.”

  “She is a child,” I told him. “And your comments are not appreciated.”

  “I think she’s old enough to make up her own mind.” The man reached out to touch Emily’s cheek. “Aren’t you, pretty girl?”

  Before I even thought of what I was doing, my hand shot out and I’d grabbed the young man firmly by the wrist. I wasn’t used to my undead strength and I held him quite tightly. There was a surprised look in his eyes, backed by a little pain. But the surprise quickly turned to alcohol-fueled fury. He took a swing at me, but I blocked his blow as easily as if he’d been moving through water. Then he went to call out for some help from his friends, but I gave him a sharp shake, glared into his eyes, and said, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  “Let’s go look at the moon on the other side of the ship,” Emily said, placing her small hand on my arm. “Come on, Lucas. I think we should go.”

  I was confused for a moment as to why Emily had referred to me as Lucas. But then I realized that she didn’t want the young man to know my real name. Emily had obviously inherited my mother’s good head, along with her beauty.

  Knowing it was the smart thing to do; I released the young man and allowed my sister to lead me away, her arm looped through mine. Having her next to me was more helpful than she could have ever realized. All I wanted to do was go back to the young man and tear out his throat.

  “I think we should go back to our cabin,” Emily said in a subdued voice, once we were away from the crowd.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” I told her, my teeth clenched together.

  As soon as we’d crossed the threshold to the stateroom, I rushed to my cabin to have another few gulps of blood. I felt like I could barely contain myself and I knew I desperately needed to calm down. But when I checked the sink in my tiny bathroom, the quart bottle had been emptied, rinsed and set out on the counter. I stared at the empty bottle for several seconds. Who would do such a thing?

  “Mrs. Denkler,” I called rushing back to our shared room. I
had seen her sitting on a small couch as we’d entered our quarters. When she looked up from her needlework I asked, “Who has been in the cabin since we left?”

  “Just the maid,” she said, completely unconcerned. “Why?”

  “Did she go into my room?” I asked, ignoring her question.

  “She took some towels in there,” was her reply. “Did she take something? Is anything missing?”

  “How long was she in my room?” I persisted.

  “Just a few moments, I think,” Mrs. Denkler said. “I don’t know for sure because I was changing when she let herself in. All I did was peek out the door and she told me that you had requested more towels.”

  “I didn’t request towels,” I said in a stern voice.

  Mrs. Denkler went back to her needlework. “I guess she must have confused our cabin with somebody else’s.”

  Chapter 11

  Colette

  As the spring weather began to warm the ground, I found an excuse to visit the construction site every couple of days. The castle was magically growing before my eyes. The exterior of the building was complete. As the stonemasons departed for parts unknown, electricians, carpenters and gardeners arrived. It was rumored that a whole crew of Italian craftsmen had been brought in just lay down the parquet floors. This meant that there was less activity outside the castle, but I could hear hammering inside the building, and men calling out to each other in various languages.

  “Why do you always want to go look at that dreary old fortress?” Lilly asked me one afternoon as I was heading off on my bicycle for another visit. “I think it’s going to end up looking surprisingly ugly. And just so drab. Don’t you?”

  “Oh, no,” I told her. “I think it’s romantic. I mean, just imagine, a couple of hundred years ago knights in armor would have ridden right up to the castle door. Ladies in Waiting would have woven tapestries to cover the walls.” I wondered if any of the original furniture from the castle had survived and if the Vanderlind family still owned any of it. Now that was something I would have loved to see.

  “So that’s why you like it? For the history lesson.” Lilly smiled and shook her head. “You’re a funny kind of girl.”

  I didn’t correct my sister, but she hadn’t exactly gotten it right. I did love history, but that wasn’t why I was so captivated by the castle. It was more about the feeling I had in my chest whenever I was near the building; a kind of tickling or buzzing that I couldn’t explain. There was something magical about the castle that I felt deep in my soul, but I didn’t know how to put into words. And maybe part of me didn’t want to put into words. There are some things a girl wants to keep to herself, thoughts not even to be shared with a dearly loved sister.

  My father also found himself drawn to the castle, but his interest was for professional reasons. He was the best builder in town, but he’d never been offered once day’s work at the castle. That hurt his pride, but it didn’t prevent him from being curious about the construction. Whenever he had a little free time, we would ride out in our car together to see the progress that had been made. Lilly and Mama rarely went, but I was always happy to accompany him. My father was a cordial man and people were usually happy to speak with him. If he found a worker who understood English, he could usually strike up a conversation. I was always eager to listen in. I felt almost a mania to glean as many details as I could about the castle.

  One afternoon my father discovered that the men who were putting in the rose garden were all from Great Britain. “You’re not from Hungary?” he asked, somewhat surprised. “Wasn’t the garden part of the original house? I thought the family had the shrubs and topiary shipped over as well.”

  “No. You’ve been misinformed,” a man with thin legs and a round belly told him while leaning on the end of his shovel. I got the impression he wanted a break from his labor. “This place never had a proper English rose garden. But I guess the lady of the house always wanted one.”

  “And what better way to get a proper English garden than to have one planted by proper Englishmen,” my father said with a smile.

  “That’s right.” The man smiled in return, exposing a large set of yellow teeth. “The lads and I thought it might be a bit of an adventure. Plus the money was right. We brought the rose bushes with us and everything. Most of them fared the voyage without complaint.” Then he added in an aside, “The roses, not the lads. We had a bit of rough weather.”

  “It must be nice to be able to order the creation of an entire formal garden on a whim,” my father observed, half to himself.

  “Yes, there must be more money than Midas behind those walls,” the gardener agreed, eyeing the castle. “Imagine wanting to move to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere.” Then he realized we were more than likely inhabitants of Tiburon, so he quickly added, “Not that the town doesn’t have its charms.” His face went rather pink. “But you always think of rich people as living in London, or Paris. New York, even. Not a small town in the middle of Iowa.”

  “Ohio,” my father said, correcting him, but keeping his voice genial.

  “I supposed they want a bit of privacy,” the man said, taking off a heavy work glove and scratching beneath his nose. “I hear that they pretty much like to keep to themselves.”

  “I guess they won’t be attending any town hall meetings,” Papa joked. “But I suppose the very rich don’t like to dirty their hands.”

  “Not like me and the lads,” the gardener said, slipping on his glove again as if he’d just remembered he had work to do. “Still, it’d be nice to get a peek inside, when the old gal is done,” he said, eyeing the castle once more. “I don’t suppose they’ll be holding tours.”

  “If they do, I’ll be the first in line,” my father assured him.

  “Is the family going to be arriving soon?” I asked. The castle was pretty much devoid of windows, so it was impossible to get a sense of the comings and goings of anyone inside.

  “Not that I know of, Miss,” he told me, his face rather serious. “Although, from what I’ve heard from some of the I-talian fellows, the family isn’t very nice. In fact, there were one or two stories that could stand a grown man’s hair on end, if anyone was to believe them.”

  Papa cleared his throat. “I’m not sure it’s right to start rumors about a family before they’ve even driven into town,” he said with a note a censure.

  The man shrugged. “It’s hard to have a big house like this, and all the money that goes with it, and not at least stir up a few rumors.” Turning his attention back to me, he leaned forward a little and gave me a stern look. “I hope you aren’t expecting a prince charming to go along with the castle as a matched set.”

  I immediately felt my face go red and I placed a hand to my cheek. My father stepped slightly in front of me, as if to shield me from the gardener’s impertinence. “My daughter enjoys studying history,” he informed the man. “I think she’s just hoping for some more facts about the castle’s past.”

  The man nodded, his expression growing sober. “Just as long as she remembers that sometimes where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” His eyes became thoughtful. “Or blood, as the I-talians tell it.”

  I was grateful for my father’s protection, and I did enjoy history, but I still felt the humiliation of being thought of as some silly school girl longing for a prince to move into the neighborhood and notice her. I probably felt doubly embarrassed because maybe the man’s assessment of me hinted at the truth.

  I couldn’t help but wonder about the stories being spread by the Italian workers. And what expression did they have in Italy about blood? I glanced around, wondering when the Italians took their coffee break and if there was any way I could speaking with one of them.

  When we returned home that evening, Lilly was sitting on the front steps waiting for us. “Hello Papa,” she said, springing up to give our father a kiss as he climbed the stairs. “Hello, Lettie,” she said, giving me a squeeze, her face all smiles.

  “W
hat’s going on?” I asked, returning her smile with a suspicious glance. She usually wasn’t quite that much of a welcoming committee.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, but she could hardly suppress her smile. “It’s just that Lev Wilson bought a new car. From the White Motor Company. He and Walter just drove it all the way down from Cleveland.”

  I had to admit, I was impressed that Lev could afford a car. Especially a new one. It made me wonder where he got his money. “How can he afford that?” I had to ask.

  “From his work, of course,” Lilly said, giving me a small frown.

  “Oh,” I said with a nod. It was too embarrassing to admit that I had no idea what Lev did for a living. I was sure he had told me, I just hadn’t bothered to listen. “Did he buy it on credit or something?” I asked. He was still a young man and didn’t have a college education, so I doubted he made that much money.

  Lilly frowned again and shrugged as she trailed me into the house. “That really isn’t something I could ask.”

  “And just why, exactly, are you bringing all this up?” our father asked as he shrugged out of his jacket.

  “Well…” Lilly paused for a moment as she gathered her nerve. “Lev and Walter invited Lettie and me to go for a drive after dinner tomorrow,” she blurted. “Just to see the new car, of course.”

  Papa frowned. “Haven’t you been seeing an awful lot of Walter?”

  “Not really,” Lilly insisted. “Not an awful lot. In fact, not very much at all.”

  Mama had walked into the room while we were talking. “Another date with Walter,” she exclaimed. “I hope you two aren’t getting too serious.”

  “Well, I like him very much, if that’s what you mean,” Lilly said. And then her face flushed a little, “But just so you know, Walter has always been a gentleman.”