The Zoey Chronicles: The Complete Collection (Vol. 1-4)

by Gray, Sophia

  I was about to tell him that I was, but then I saw the futility of it. I must look a mess, plus I wasn’t exactly the fittest person in the world. “I need to find her,” I said.

  “You love her, don’t you lad?” he said.

  I didn’t have the energy to deny it. “How did you know?”

  “It’s obvious. I knew as soon as you mentioned her name. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come here every day for training. I’ll build you up, intense army training that will get you fit and strong enough to make the trip. And I’ll teach you how to fight and hunt vampires, if that’s what you want.”

  “You know how to hunt vampires?”

  He smiled grimly. “Yes,” he said.

  “Why would you do that for me?”

  He shrugged. “Because you’re in love and I need a project. I haven’t done anything exciting for a while.”

  Could I do it? Could I train as a vampire killer? “Yes,” I said without thinking. “Let’s do it.”

  He grinned. “Alright, lad. You be here every day after school, and don’t be late and never miss a day and you should do alright.”

  “Okay, John,” I said.

  His smile grew even wider. “Call me Johnny. My friends call me Johnny.”

  “Okay, Johnny. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I left Johnny’s place feeling good. I had a plan. I didn’t stop to think about how good of a plan it was. It was a plan, and that was all that mattered. I walked through my front door with a strange sense of hope, and it immediately disappeared. My father was home.

  He turned on me with fury in his gaze, and I could tell that he’d been drinking. He was a big man, covered in hard-packed muscle, and when he came at me I didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t say anything, didn’t give me an insight into why he was beating me. He just did it.

  I tried to defend myself, but his fists came with too much power, and my pitiful defences were less than useless. Pain exploded in my nose and he threw me onto my back and pounded my face. He kept hitting me, again and again, until all I could see and taste was blood. I tried to cry out, but all I could do was splutter blood.

  He took a swig of his whisky and turned out the light, leaving me in dark. “You’re pathetic,” he said, and then left the room.

  Zoey

  The next couple of weeks were quiet and awkward. We barely spoke, and when we did it was strictly vampire business. I was getting better at hunting, slowly, and was beginning to have more control over my blood cravings.

  The nighttimes were the most awkward. When we ate we didn’t say anything, and afterwards we went straight to bed. I couldn’t understand why he’d kissed me and then immediately pulled away. I kept thinking that it was something that I’d done wrong. Had I tasted weird? Had I been too intense when I grabbed his back? Was I too ugly for him? It was undeniable that he was far, far more attractive than I was. Perhaps he’d only realised that when he got close enough to kiss me.

  Every night I dreamt of it. I replayed it in my mind, how hurt and embarrassed I’d felt. But then one night I dreamt something else. I had another vision.

  A woman stood atop a snowy mountain, alone. She was clad head to toe in thick, wintery clothes, and a sword was strapped to her back. It took me a few minutes to realise that I recognised her. It was the hilt of the sword that did it. It was shiny black and had a small diamond set in the bottom. The diamond glowed a dull green colour. It was the woman from my dream, the one that had delivered the finishing blow to my father.

  The air was filled with snow and the roar of a blizzard, but the woman seemed unaffected as she stood atop the mountain. She drew her sword and held it up to the sky. “Gods of all gods, please give me the strength to reclaim the key and kill all of the humans. Please give me the strength to regroup our soldiers and continue our war. Please give me the strength to be the vampire I need to be.”

  She stared up at the sky as if she really expected it to reply. When it didn’t she sighed and put the sword back on her back. Not for the first time I wondered who the hell she was. Why was I having visions about her? She was clearly the enemy. That much was clear from the fact that she’d killed my father and talked of killing all humans.

  It was strange, but I wasn’t overly angry at her for killing my father. Perhaps it was because I hadn’t known him, I thought. But it saddened me. I wanted to be angry at her, if only to feel something for the man I’d never known. But when she spoke of killing all humans, that angered me. Why would she want to wipe out seven billion people? What possible justification could she have for that?

  She turned away and started to walk down the mountain. She spoke to herself as she did so, in quick, frantic bursts of speech. “One day, we will rise again. The Council of the Undead is stronger with us as its leaders. We are strong. We are the strongest vampires to have ever lived. Benjamin was weak, and deserved to die. Benjamin was a liability. Benjamin was a coward.”

  That did make me angry, furious even. I could feel myself thrashing in my dream, feel sweat blanketing my body, and my heart flutter in anger. I wished that I could somehow enter the dream and attack her. Who did she think she was? Benjamin was weak? The only reason she was able to kill him with that pretty little sword of hers was because Mordrain had weakened him first. Without him, my father would have killed them all. Of that I was sure.

  When she got to the bottom of the mountain there was a group of men waiting for her. I recognised some of them. They were the same men from my previous vision, the men who had watched in gleeful entertainment as my father and Mordrain had fought to the death. “What did the gods say?” one said.

  She looked them over, clenching her jaw. “They said that I am your new leader,” she said. Liar, I thought, even as I was dreaming. Liar. “Bow to me, my children.”

  And to my astonishment they all bowed without question. Is that all it takes to become a leader? You just have to walk up a mountain and say that a god appointed you? It seemed ludicrous to me, but they were bowing nonetheless.

  After they stood she looked them over, one by one, and then jumped atop a log so that she was looking down upon them. “The pretender Benjamin has put the old Council of the Undead back in place. Make no mistake children; they are cowards who want to protect humans. Whilst we see the truth, that humans are nothing more than cattle to be herded where we wish, they seek to shelter them, and to treat them almost as equals. We must rise up and continue what Mordrain started. We must find the key and restore ourselves to our rightful place on the Council of the Undead.”

  The men started to chant and scream, and with every chant pain shot through my body. I could feel it, even as I was dreaming. My arms and legs tensed up, and pain pulsed through them. I screamed out, or at least I think I did, and then the dream became blurry. Everything was a snowy haze as I gazed out upon the crowd.

  “Vuulish crishnuú kra!”

  What? I thought. What the hell was that?

  “Vuulish crishnuú kra!”

  The dream shimmered, and I thought I could see Galahad’s face looking down on me. “Zoey,” he said. “Zoey, you must wake up. If you keep dreaming you could hurt yourself.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and then said, “Vuulish crishnuú kra!” I awoke screaming.

  My body was covered in cold sweat, and I shivered as the light breeze of the night brushed against me. Thousands of stars gazed down. The moon was full, and lit up the night. I ran a tongue over my vampire teeth, and realised that I must have bit my cheek at some point; they were covered in blood. For a second my body froze up as the taste of blood lingered in my mouth, metallic and thick, but then I spat it out. Galahad smiled, clearly proud that I’d shown restraint.

  “Are you okay?” he said.

  “I think so,” I said. “What the hell were those words?”

  He waved a hand. “Just some old vampire words to break visions. What did you see?”

  I told him. He clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything, and then
turned to go back to sleep. “Wait,” I said. He turned and faced me. He slept topless, and in the moonlight his muscles glistened. His arms were thick yet defined, and his shoulders bulged, but not too much. He looked like a perfectly sculpted statue. “Why have you been so cold with me?”

  He stared at me for a long time before coming and sitting opposite me. He scratched his face. His beard had grown back a little and his hair was growing out in curls. Finally he spoke. “I’m scared,” he said.

  I swallowed. I didn’t understand what he meant. Was he scared of me? Did I scare him? Had I been too intense when I grabbed his back? Perhaps girls weren’t meant to do things like that. Perhaps they were just meant to stand still and let the guy kiss them. “Scared of what?” I said, quietly, scared of his answer.

  “It’s hard to explain.” His voice sounded sad.

  Before I knew what I was doing I’d placed my hand upon his shoulder. I cursed myself silently. Now he’d move it away and things would be awkward again. I’d already went too far with him before. Crossing the boundaries again was hardly the best way to make things better. But he left my hand there, even smiled a small smile. My heart warmed at that, and I was filled with confidence. “Try me,” I said.

  He sighed. “Are you sure you want to get an old man started on his life?”

  I gasped. “You’re not an old man!” I said.

  “I am,” he said, smiling a sad smile, as if he was remembering the past.

  “How old are you?”

  “About seven hundred years old, give or take a few years.”

  I let out a cry of amazement. “That’s insane,” I said. “You’ve lived through so much.” Suddenly I felt very young and very stupid. I debated taking my hand off his shoulder. What right did I have to touch him? But it was warm and soft to the touch, so I left it there.

  “That’s nothing,” he said. “Your father was over four thousand years old. He was a prominent noble in the Roman Empire. He was also a fearsome gladiator for a little while, after he became a vampire. Varo the Vilified, he came to be known. That’s why he changed his name. Although he kept the name Varo for a thousand years or so.”

  “Three thousand years!” I jumped to my feet involuntarily. It was all too much. I couldn’t process it. How had my father been three thousand years old? How was this young man before me seven hundred years old? It was utter madness.

  I rubbed my head and sighed heavily. Why was I so surprised? They were vampires, after all. I turned back to Galahad. “Okay,” I said. “Tell me what you’re scared of.”

  He took a deep breath and for a second I thought that he was going to decline, but then he said, “Okay.”

  I sat down next to him, within touching distance. If he got upset again, I’d put my hand upon his shoulder, I decided. It was for me as much as for him; I liked the feel of his warm, muscular shoulder. “Go ahead,” I said, once I’d sat down.

  “Have you ever heard of the Black Plague?” he said.

  I blushed; history wasn’t my best subject and I didn’t want to seem ignorant in front of him. He smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s fine if you haven’t. Anyway, the Black Plague was this disease that swept across Europe in the middle of the 14th century. It ravaged mainland Europe before coming to England in 1348. I had lived for sixteen summers when it hit. It was horrible. It came so fast and we didn’t know what to do. We thought that it was God’s punishment. Of course now we know different, but back then it seemed completely random and monstrous.”

  He went quiet and stared at the ground, and I realised that he was trembling. I reached out and put my hand upon his shoulder, and to my delight he placed his hand upon mine. Shivers ran up my arm and massaged my neck. I had to stifle a moan of pleasure. How could a simple touch feel this good? “And then what happened?” I said.

  “I was working on the land with my father. One day he was fine, and the next he had black swelling underneath his armpits. It took him in three days. My two sisters were next, and then my mother. They all went within the space of a week. It was a horrible way for them to go. No dignity. No happiness. No heartfelt goodbyes. Just harsh, quick disease. Why me? That’s what I kept thinking. Why in the name of God did I survive when so many others didn’t? I mean, there were so many dead that there was no one to bury them. Historians think that the records are exaggerated, that perhaps it wasn’t really that bad, but it was. I was there. Whole villages disappeared. Everyone died. Everyone.”

  He was trembling now. I squeezed his shoulder, my heart going out to him. I wanted to comfort him, to make everything better, but there was a note of complete despair in his voice that seemed beyond my help. He squeezed my hand and nodded at me as if gaining strength from the simple gesture. “Why me? Well, I find out why I had survived. It was your father, Zoey.”

  “My father?” I said, shocked.

  “Yes,” Galahad said. “Do you remember earlier when I used those strange words on you?”

  “When I was having the vision, yes.”

  “He did the same with me. He put a ward on me, one that protected me from the Plague. When I asked him why he just smiled and said, ‘You’re a strong lad, and I have plans for you.’ And then he changed me into a vampire.” He smiled at the memory. “He was a good master.”

  “So that’s why you’ve been so distant with me?” I said, still not completely understanding.

  He nodded and looked at me. His beautiful green eyes were wet with tears and his lips were trembling. In a matter of minutes he’d gone from the strong, silent Galahad I’d known over the past few weeks to a boy who needed comforting. My mind went back to Ben. When Ben had seemed weak it had turned me off, made me pity him, but with Galahad it was different. I felt special to be the person he chose to confide in. “Yes,” he said. “Don’t you see? Everything I touch turns to ash.”

  My heart lurched. I knew it was a selfish thought, but I was overjoyed to not be the reason for his bluntness. It was so heart-warming. Again I marvelled at how soft yet firm his hand was, and I realised that that was how he was as a person as well. He had been so firm, so hard with me over the past few weeks, and now his soft, vulnerable side was coming out.

  I found myself remembering our brief kiss, how our lips had brushed for so fleeting a moment. I longed to be kissed by him again, but I didn’t want to initiate it. What if he pushed me away? “No, Galahad,” I said, giving his hand another squeeze. “It’s not your fault. What were you supposed to do? It was the Plague, not you.”

  He shook his head. “I should’ve taken them away, made sure that they were okay. My sister was only three. She didn’t understand what was going on. She kept crying and asking us, and we didn’t know what to tell her.” He spat on the floor, forcefully. “She was only three.”

  “Galahad,” I said, taking my hand off my shoulder and moving around so that we were face to face. “It was not your fault. Don’t feel bad, please don’t.” Suddenly my mind filled with images of Jessica’s dead body, of the two boys I’d attacked and the girl I’d hit when I’d be under a blood frenzy. Her head had been jarred to the side and her neck had been red with blood, and her body had been covered in scratches from where she’d tried to resist me.

  I felt tears well up in my eyes, and cursed myself for being so selfish and self-pitying at a time like this. Galahad looked at my tears and then, to my astonishment, started to cry himself. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed, long and hard, and I couldn’t do anything other than sob along with him.

  After a little while he looked up at him. He was hazy through my tears, but even so I could see that his face was flushed and his eyes were bloodshot. I stared at him, longing for him to kiss me, and then he did.

  He pounced on me like an animal.

  At first I was worried. I thought that he was attacking me, but then his mouth met mine and my body filled with warmth. His lips were smooth and moved over mine skilfully. I opened up to him, losing myself in the pleasure of the moment, grabbing his muscular back and digg
ing my nails in. He let out a whimper and I dug my nails in harder, and he growled. I growled back.

  We had become nothing more than animals, enjoying the pleasure of each other’s embrace, and yet beyond that my heart filled with joy. He was so strong, and I felt so safe in his embrace. His hands moved over my body, deftly.

  I arched my back and savoured each tingly touch. His scent overwhelmed me. He smelt of dead deer and sweat, which once I would’ve found revolting, but as a vampire I relished. I breathed him in deeply. He pulled away for a second and stared at me intently, and I felt my cheeks flush. “You are special, Zoey,” he said. “But I don’t think I can do this.”

  My spirits immediately dropped. “Why?” I said. “Why can’t you? I want you to, Galahad. I’ve never done it before, and I want you to be my first.” I meant every word. My body ached, pulsed for him. Every fibre of my being was infused with an electric energy that pulsated when he touched me. My hands were sweaty and my heart beat in my chest aggressively. My mouth was dry and my breasts were tingling, and other things were happening to my body that I’d never felt before, things that I’d heard adults talk about . . .