Night's Gift: Book One of the Night's Vampire Trilogy

by Mary M. Cushnie-mansour

  I noticed her eyebrows elevate sharply.

  “Well,” I stood, not having received the answer I was looking for. “Would you mind just telling me the way out, then?” I said firmly.

  “Oh no, I cannot tell, or show, you the way out. You may not leave yet. I thought I had already made that quite clear to you. He must see you first. Only he decides who leaves here.” The words flowed smoothly off her tongue ... soft ... yet, at the same time, their tone left a weird, creepy feeling in my bones.

  “Yes, I know you said that before, but I really must insist that I leave now.” I was desperately trying to get my point across. “When do you think he will see me?” I inquired.

  “When he is ready.” There was an annoyed look on the lady’s face.

  I stood up and started to pace. What kind of a nightmare was this? The worst, I told myself. Why couldn’t I simply be like normal people? I could have continued to admire the old house from a distance, from the sidewalk by the street. But oh no, not me! I’d had to walk across the yard and up onto the porch. I’d had to look in the window! And for what reason—just to satisfy my insatiable curiosity? What had I landed myself in? Only God knew at that moment, but I wished He had been kind enough to send me a heavenly vision that would have steered my feet away from their path-wandering tendencies that night!

  The situation I found myself in was too ridiculous to even resemble reality. In the room with me was an intriguing black-robed beauty! She was true enough to life. Then there was the blood pudding, made with what appeared to be real blood! Finally, there was the tall mysterious man in a high-collared black cape—a man with fangs! Was he the him the lady constantly referred to, the man who claimed to be the ruler of this domain? I had yet to find out if this elusive man, who was referred to as the count, was real—or if the bump on my head had been so severe that my overactive imagination had finally taken total possession of my mind.

  I shuffled cautiously over to the window and tried to grasp my bearings. I turned and glanced back at the lady. She was eating, or should I say slurping, from her mug, and from the looks of it she was relishing every drop of her drink. A bead of blood escaped the side of the cup and dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Her tongue flicked quickly through her open lips, rescuing the stray droplet. My stomach churned, and I felt as though I was going to vomit for the second time that evening. I turned back to my window, placed my hands on the handles, and attempted to open it. It would not budge.

  “There is no use trying to leave.” Her voice startled me. “As I told you, only he will decide if and when you may go.”

  Goosebumps ran up and down my flesh. Who was he? What did the lady mean by “if and when”? What power did he wield over this beautiful woman; for that matter, what power did he think he held over me? This was a free country. People came and went as they pleased, yet she had said this was his domain. Did that mean he was above the law of the land? This is Canada, I mused to myself. Canadians are protected by the Charter of Rights and Freedoms! Was he so powerful that he could reach beyond even its protections?

  My imagination began spinning again. Maybe I had just landed myself in the home of some big Mafia kingpin who thought I was spying for one of his rivals! Oh Lord, if he thought that, then what would my fate be? Didn’t he realize I was not a person of any great importance? I would not dare say a word about anything. Besides, I knew nothing to say anything about!

  And who was this mysterious woman? Wife? Lover? Employee? I deduced, from the looks of her, that she fell into the category of a wife or a lover. No man in his right mind would hire such a beauty if he were in marriage and wanted to preserve its sanctity! She appeared amiable, on the surface, but one could never quite tell what might be buried deep under all that serene beauty. I had observed women similar to her at some of the office parties I had attended in Toronto. They were all glamour on the surface, but inside, they were rotten to the core.

  What motive could there be for holding me here? Who was he? What was he? The same questions kept churning over and over in my mind, creating my own internal horror film. I could feel the tears creeping upward, toward my throat as I considered my possible predicament. All the recent events continued to race through my mind. Halloween character? Mafia kingpin? Would my fate differ in either case? There was a knock at the door. I held my tears in check; maybe it would be him, coming to say that I could go home. The lady opened the door. Max entered.

  “Are you finished, madam?”

  “Yes, thank you, Max.”

  “Was everything to your taste?”

  “Perfectly—to mine, that is. I don’t believe our guest was particularly pleased, though; perhaps you could fix something more to her preference for later?” she suggested.

  “Yes, madam,” Max mumbled.

  I shuddered again as an eerie sensation gripped me. I watched as Max gathered everything together and ambled out of the room. The lady closed the door behind him and then turned to me, with that smile. I was wondering by now why she smiled like this. It was certainly not a friendly smile, and yet it was not hostile, either. It was just as I have been saying, peculiar.

  “You look as though you would like to rest awhile longer; you are still so pale.” She glanced toward the window where I was standing. I followed her gaze and noticed the sun was beginning to peek up over the horizon.

  She certainly was right about the tired part. I could not shake the fatigue that seemed to have overtaken my body, even though I had been asleep for twenty-four hours. It must be the stress. My mother had always said that stress caused turmoil in the system. My mother had never seemed stressed about anything; I had always wondered how she could remain so calm in the most critical situations. Maybe it had been her simple lifestyle.

  “I must retire now,” she informed me. “As I mentioned earlier, if you need anything, just ring the bell. Max will see to your needs. He will bring something more edible for you if you wish.”

  I could not let her depart without one last-ditch effort to get out of there. “I just want to go home,” I choked the words out, tears welling in my eyes.

  The lady walked over to the door before she returned an answer. “I will inform him that you wish to see him.”

  “I don’t want to see him!” I screamed. “I want to go home!”

  “I will speak to him.” Her lips shut in a firm line that declared the conversation was over. The door squeaked shut behind her. There was a clicking sound as the lock fell into place. I was left alone to whatever misery I could conjure up in my mind.

  I paced around the room. I had to get out! But to where? And how? Everything seemed to be locked. Wait! I ran to the door. Maybe I had only imagined the click. I tried to open it. My shoulders sagged in desperation. How dare she do that to me! I walked, with faltering steps, back to the bed and lay down. I stared up at the ceiling. Painted creatures, evil and unfamiliar, stared back at me.

  The tears began to pour, finally breaking free from their restraining barriers. I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. Sleep would ease my pain and break me out of this horrid dream I had landed in. When I awoke, I would be in my own cosy little apartment, asleep on the couch with a TV remote in my hand. The alarm would wake me in the morning. I would get up, get dressed, and go to work—that was reality! That was what I hoped for. That is what I prayed for. Blessed sleep would make the nightmare go away.

  ~

  I awoke with a start. I was still in the locked room. There was no TV, no remote control in my hand, no comfortable familiarity—not even my cursed alarm clock buzzing me into wakefulness. The sun was shining brightly into my room. My stomach rumbled hungrily, reminding me once again of just how famished I was. I could not remember when my last meal had been; I presumed it had been supper on the night of my little walk. I would have to chance eating something, even if it was not totally to my liking. A sixth sense told me I was going to need a plan to escape from this place, and in order to do that, I would require all of my strength! />
  I pulled the rope, and within seconds there was a knock on the door. I was not given time to offer a verbal invitation to enter. A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open.

  “You called, miss?” Max asked.

  “Yes. Would it be possible to have something to eat now, please? The lady told me you could prepare something to my taste.”

  “What would you like, miss?” He said the magic words, confirming that there just might be some food fit for human consumption in this place.

  “Do you have eggs, toast, coffee, and juice?” I asked hopefully.

  “How would you like your eggs done, miss?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Over easy, please.”

  “As you wish, miss,” Max said as he turned and left. I heard the key click in the lock.

  Max certainly was not a man to mince words. I wondered what his role was, besides that of a butler. Were there a cook and a housekeeper, as well? Would he be passing my request on to some overweight, jolly chef who wore large, grease-stained aprons and worked cheerily away in a bright, spotless kitchen? No matter, I reasoned; at least I was going to have some decent food. It was of no consequence to me who cooked it or what they looked like.

  A vision of the lady in black, sipping at the blood pudding, passed before my eyes. I shuddered. I walked over to the window, pushed the curtain aside, and surveyed the gardens, searching for another form of human life. Nothing—only flowers and grass and trees. I turned around as I heard the key in the door. Max re-entered, carrying a tray laden with my food. The aroma teased my nostrils.

  “I’ll set it here, miss?” Max asked as he put the tray down on a small table by the window.

  “Yes, thank you, Max.” I paused. “Where is the lady?” I asked.

  “Resting, miss.”

  “But it is daytime,” I remarked curiously.

  “Yes, miss. That it is,” Max replied matter-of-factly, not offering further information.

  “How long will she be resting? When will I see her again? She promised to talk to him, whoever he is, about allowing me to leave.”

  “When the sun goes down, they will both be up. You will see her then. As for him, I cannot say. He will see you when he is ready to see you, not at your desired time,” Max articulated.

  “Do they work nights?”

  “Work nights?” Max appeared puzzled.

  “Yes, you know—a job—the night shift?”

  “Oh! Yes, sorry. Yes, something like that,” was the evasive reply.

  Everything was beginning to add up—add up to an incredibly unbelievable story! I thought these kinds of things only happened in the movies or on the pages of a book, thanks to some writer’s overactive imagination. I was not ready yet to accept how my suspicions were adding up. I had a pretty solid hunch that I had encountered a real live vampire, and I presumed that the lady in black was not the only vampire in this house. I was willing to bet my bottom dollar that he was the head honcho, maybe even the king of vampires himself—Dracula!

  It was him I was truly terrified to meet! My hand reached up to my throat, brushing against my necklace, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness! I had worn the crucifix that had been my grandmother’s and been passed, first to my mother, and then to me, when I had gone off to college. I wore it a lot because it always gave me a feeling of closeness to my mother. I had an eerie feeling I was going to require its assistance somewhere down the line; I prayed it would carry the power I was going need if that moment arrived.

  Max lit the candles that were scattered around the room. “It will be dark soon,” he noted. “You will need this light.”

  “Why the candles?” I inquired. “Do the light switches not work?”

  Max smirked. “The switches do not work. The master had them disconnected. He doesn’t cater to a lot of modern conveniences; he prefers to lead a simple life.”

  Max backed out of the room. I heard the door lock click into place. Once again, I found myself alone. I had to think fast. It would be dark soon. There had to be a way of getting it through to the lady in black that I wished to leave right away. I had no desire whatsoever to meet with him, whoever or whatever he was! Could she be my hope of escape, or was she too connected to and too controlled by him to be able to assist me?

  I sat down at the little table and tried to enjoy my meal. Whoever was whipping up the real food in this place should open a restaurant. Even though my stomach was churning in rapid turmoil, I had never tasted anything quite so delicious.

  My meal finished, I pushed the dishes aside and stared out the window again. The sun was sinking slowly in the west; the shadows were emerging from their hiding places and beginning to dance in the night garden. I stood up, went over to the bed, and lay down on the soft comforter. Just before I closed my eyes, I thought I heard a wolf howl, a long and mournful sound. It was eerie ... but that was not possible, was it? There were no wolves in the city—none that I had heard of, anyway.

  First Meeting

  Chapter Three

  I must have dozed off, for I was awakened by a hand gently shaking my shoulder. I jolted up. There she was again, standing there, smiling down at me with that mysterious smile of hers, still so breathtakingly beautiful. She must have slept well, I thought. I wondered how I looked after my dream-troubled sleep. I gazed around the room, trying to locate a mirror. There was not one anywhere in which to observe my disarray.

  “You look lovely this evening,” I offered.

  “He is ready to see you now,” she stated coolly, ignoring my comment. “He has sent me to fetch you. We will all dine together tonight.” The lady paused. “He regrets any inconvenience that may have been caused you last night, but he had an urgent matter that needed his attention. By the time he returned, it was very late.”

  You mean early, I thought to myself. These people certainly had their days and nights mixed up.

  “It must be tough having your husband work nights.” I was fishing.

  The lady tilted her head and smiled her peculiar smile. Once again, she chose to ignore my comment.

  I decided on another avenue of conversation. “By the way, what is your name?” I thought I should ask since I was getting tired of mentally referring to her as the lady in black.

  “Teresa,” she replied, “and yours?”

  “Mine?” I had not expected her to want to know mine, since up until now she had not bothered to ask. “Mine is Ginny, at least that is what my friends call me. Short for Virginia.”

  “Very well, Virginia.” Teresa emphasized my proper name, leaving me to assume that friendship was out of the question. “Follow me, please.”

  I followed Teresa into a large hallway, which was lit by wall candle-lamps. From behind pieces of furniture, flickering shadows lunged at me from their concealed corners. My nerves were tense as I searched for a possible escape route from the nightmare I seemed to be trapped in.

  “Here we are,” Teresa said as she opened a large double door and showed me into an oversized dining room.

  I was sure, upon entering the room, I must be mistaken about my theory of vampires living here. Most of the vampire homes I had seen in the movies had been overrun with dust and cobwebs. This place shone immaculately. Whoever lived here must be filthy rich and probably employed several servants. Most likely they were just moneyed people who had some weird fetishes, and they were going to teach me a lesson for having trespassed on their property. Why in the world they would want to keep insignificant me around for questioning was beyond my comprehension. They would probably make their point and then let me go—I hoped.

  I was positive the furniture in the dining room dated back to the same era as the bedroom furnishings. It was of the finest quality, in superb condition, and it was arranged quite proficiently within the room. All the woods were dark and shiny, a reflection of years of tender, loving care.

  An ornate candle chandelier hung from the centre of a painted ceiling. Blue porcelain roses hung from each umbrella-
like candle holder. The base of the chandelier resembled a spinning top and was painted with soft pink roses. A gold chain travelled to the ceiling, embedding itself into an arrangement of shimmering gold leaves. The candles cast star-like reflections on the ceiling paintings, radiating a night-time effect in the room. Smaller candle lights were fastened all around on the walls; some were lit, some were not.

  The rug under the huge table in the centre of the room appeared Persian in origin. It was adorned with the strangest conglomeration of pictures. As I studied them, I realized that I was looking at a massive tree laden with branches. Each limb had a pale-yellow life form clutching at its tip. There were no leaves upon the limbs. The tree trunk was a mixture of reddish hues. All were scattered across a pitch-black background.

  Imposing paintings of old, gloomy mansions and castles and mysterious people hung on the walls. All the individuals in the paintings wore black. All the men were intense. All the women had peculiar smiles. Now I knew where Teresa’s smile originated, and I wondered if I could assume she was related to all these women.

  Max gave me a start when he entered the room pushing his little cart. Does the man ever sleep? I thought to myself.

  “The master will be here in a moment, madam,” he informed Teresa. “He has asked me to have everything prepared. He also asked me to inform you that he regrets he will not be able to stay long. Things did not go well for him last night, as I am sure you already know. I am afraid he must go out again tonight. However, before leaving, he said he would like to attend to this little matter.” Max nodded his head toward me.

  Little matter, I thought. I was a little matter! How dare this old man refer to me as though I was some sort of inconvenience! However, on second consideration, I hoped whatever was going to happen to me would only be a little matter, and I would be allowed to go on my merry way once they made their point. It was not as though I had broken into their home and stolen their possessions. I had only foolishly trespassed onto their grounds and peeked in their window. Then, even more foolishly, I had bumped into one of the garden statues while trying to leave in a panic. The count was probably just going to make sure I was okay and then warn me never to set foot on his property again. I saw no reason for further detainment.