His eyes clouded over, and he concentrated on carving up his own flesh. “Father,” he whispered. “Just like father. Lies, lies, lies."
He was beside her in an instant. His face inches from hers, he whispered, “Father was right about one thing. Women are nothing but lying whores."
Katherine's eyes narrowed. “I do not think calling me a whore is going to help yer plight, Beaux."
Ignoring her remark, he grabbed her face with one hand and pulled her from the bed. “Ye wanna see Vincent? Let's go then. Better to get it done so we can move on."
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Twelve
Vincent's body hung limp against the chains that kept him tied to the dungeon wall. His arms were pulled behind him in an awkward angle, and Katherine knew they had to be broken. Thankfully, he was unconscious.
At the sight of her beloved, Katherine started to rush forward, but Beaux had hold of her arm and yanked her back. She fell on her derriere at Beaux's feet, and he angrily jerked her up.
Pursing her lips tightly, Katherine fought the rage building inside. She was rapidly becoming tired of the way Beaux treated her. She forced herself to be patient.
Transferring his hold of Katherine to his left side, Beaux pulled his dagger free of its sheath and stepped close to his intended victim. He raised the knife over his shoulder and brought it towards Vincent's prone form.
Certain of his intent, Katherine threw herself at the last second between the flashing steel and Vincent. The blade sank into her shoulder, and she collapsed to her knees, blood flowing everywhere.
Shocked, Beaux let go of her hand and stepped back. His eyes narrowed as it dawned on him what her act meant. She would die for Vincent.
His temper flared out of control. Unable to stop himself, he kicked Katherine as hard as he could in the stomach. Then he pulled her up and threw her across the room. She screamed as she hit the wall and slid to the floor, too weak to rise. The pain caused to tears to spill down her face.
"Why?” she mumbled. “Why are ye doing this? Why can't ye let us be?"
Ignoring her pleas, Beaux looked at Vincent. The commotion was causing him to stir. Vincent was coming out of the healing sleep.
"Just in time, old friend,” Beaux sneered.
Groggily, Vincent raised his head, wincing in pain when he tried to move his broken arms. He looked around in confusion. Licking his lips, he asked quietly, “Is this Hell?"
Beaux laughed. “Oh yes, dear friend, it is Hell indeed."
Raising his eyes to his former comrade, Vincent took in the scene before him. He jerked upright at the sight of Katherine crumpled on the floor.
"Bastard, what have ye done to her?” Vincent cried. He looked at Beaux and shook his head. “It wasn't enough that ye took her once before."
Leaning close, Beaux growled. “Aye, friend, yer right about that."
Beaux could not fathom why he was so upset. Something in him craved Katherine's love. He was insanely jealous of Vincent, had always been so even when they were lads. Vincent had everything. Beaux felt the only reason Vincent had befriended him was because he felt sorry for him. Well, no more pity for poor abused Beaux.
Swiftly crossing the room, Beaux grabbed Katherine by her hair. His rage blinded him as he yanked his dagger from her shoulder. Her scream rang through the room, but he paid no heed.
Making sure Vincent had a perfect view, Beaux drew the knife across Katherine's neck. Her eyes widened in shock as blood poured from the gaping wound. Within seconds, she was sucked into the healing sleep, defenseless.
Then Beaux ripped her head from her body and held it before him like a talisman. He swung it back and forth before Vincent.
Vincent's stomach churned. Anger filled him, and he tried to move. White fire ate at his broken arms. He was powerless. His eyes blazed red as hatred rose in him.
"If I can't have her, my friend, neither will you,” Beaux muttered.
Mercilessly, Beaux's fist smashed into Katherine's mouth. Both head and body instantaneously turned to dust. Vincent's heart suddenly ached with an indescribable pain. Just like that, his love was gone.
"Rot in Hell, Vincent,” Beaux replied and turned to leave. He knew that Vincent's arms would not heal at such an odd angle. Thus, he would be unable to escape unless someone helped him. That thought stopped Beaux cold, and he faced Vincent once more.
The dagger felt heavy in Beaux's hand. He felt drained but knew he had to silence Vincent. Without a tongue, his old friend would have a hard time summoning help.
Beaux took two steps and was knocked to the ground. The black panther never hesitated as his massive jaws ripped at the vampire's back. Beaux screamed in pain but was unable to shake the panther. The large cat ripped Beaux's spine from his back. The vampire instantly collapsed into the sleep, and the panther proudly laid the glistening spine at Vincent's feet.
"Took ye long enough,” Vincent whispered wearily. The cat lowered its head. “No matter. Better to be late than not at all."
* * * *
When morning came, so did one of the servants. Vincent clouded the man's mind to keep him from seeing Beaux's body. Like a zombie, the young man released Vincent from the chains and returned upstairs. He would remember nothing.
Steeling himself against the pain, Vincent forced his arms forward, snapping them back in place. Then he fell face down on the floor as the healing sleep swept over him.
* * * *
It was a week before Vincent woke. His hunger was ravenous, but so was the heart-wrenching memory of losing Katherine. He stood on shaky legs, and his world spun. He bent down with his head between his knees until the nauseating feeling passed.
Then he picked up Beaux's body by his head. It was perfectly preserved. That which made it vampire still coursed through the flesh, and Vincent knew all he had to do was press the spine back into his body and the flesh would mold together. However, this was not his intention.
Vincent popped one of the fangs from Beaux's mouth, hesitating before the final blow. He was in a vengeful mood and releasing Beaux's spirit would be too merciful, even if Beaux went straight to Hell. So Vincent ripped Beaux's head from his body, gathered up all the body parts, and set off to hide them where no mortal would ever find them.
* * * *
Vincent returned to the castle with his mission accomplished. His Katherine was avenged, but as is often the case, revenge was a hollow thing. He sank to his knees as loneliness punched him in the chest. His heart hurt so bad he wanted to rip it out. Blood-tears dripped down his face as he mourned the loss of his love. Beaux was right about one thing. Vincent was in Hell.
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Thirteen
1963
A drop of sweat rolled slowly down the side of her face. The hot sticky air clung to her skin, her hair, even her lungs. With every breath, the heat pressed closer. As she gazed at the tantalizing ocean, she battled the desire for a swim in the tropical waters. The temperature's unrelenting attack was driving her insane.
Calmly, she placed the muzzle of the pistol in her mouth and breathed in deeply. For the last time? She smiled at her own morbid joke.
Her forefinger pushed the trigger back, causing the hammer to click and snap forward. The stream of cold water hit the back of her throat refreshingly, and Jane sighed as the heat still pressed against her skin.
Her eyes moved swiftly across the ocean to the sunset. Fire burst from the star, scorching the sky into a multitude of colors. She held her breath in deep respect to the setting sun.
Jane sat on a rickety dock that creaked in protest as gentle waves beat against it. Remarkably, two decrepit gas pumps rested in the middle of the dock, awaiting proper burial.
At the sight of a battered old boat heading toward her, Jane got to her feet, gracefully running her fingers through her long brown hair. She studied the boat as it pushed away the water reaching to encircle its hull in a warm, deadly embrace. Ripples cascaded from the boat to the shore, upsetting the still
ness of the surface. The motor held a continuous rhythm that drowned out the sound of water lapping against the dock.
The boat gently bumped into the buoyant platform, and Jane tied it down. Then she stepped back and observed the island's visitor.
"Got a dead man for ya,” said Phil, a Jamaican who used his boat to run tourists around the islands. His passenger this time, though, was dead. Jane stared at the little boat tied behind Phil's. She was surprised it hadn't sunk with the speed he had been traveling.
"Gee, thanks,” she grunted.
"De man's last wish was dah be buried on dis here island. Id's de strangest dhing I ever heard."
A shiver ran from her head to her toes. She had the strongest desire to run as far away from the coffin as she could.
"What am I supposed to do with it?” Jane asked nervously.
"Dhere's s'posed dah be a boa’ full o’ mourners coming in ad midnighd. Jus leave id here on de dock. Dey'll dake care of id,” instructed Phil.
As she filled Phil's gas tank, wild thoughts flew through Jane's mind. She couldn't keep her eyes from staring at the coffin. So intent was her study, the gas tank overflowed and spilled onto her shoes.
"Shit!” Jane jumped back to avoid it.
Seconds later, Phil handed her four dollars and turned on the engine. “Take care, Jane."
Waving in reply, Jane watched the boat cut through the waves. She thought about the coffin with foreboding. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt that something was wrong. Then she realized that the sun had set. She shook her head and turned to go into the store.
A scream stuck in Jane's throat as she came face to face with a dark-haired man. He was so close that Jane could smell his horrible breath. Recoiling, she was frightened at the thought that the man had appeared without a word.
"Who are you?” Jane managed to croak out.
She stared into captivating blue eyes. A weird feeling overcame her as the stranger smiled wickedly. Inwardly, a warning shivered through Jane. She felt caught in a whirlpool, and a drowning sensation swept over her. She couldn't fight or run. Something drained her of her will and energy. She could only wait passively as the Stranger stepped closer to her.
With a surprising quickness, the Stranger forced Jane's head back, baring her neck as his teeth ripped into her flesh. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and tried to fight the beast, but it was too late. The deed had been done. When the beast was finished, he let her go, and Jane fell to the ground as weakness flooded her body.
The pain in her neck was excruciating. Jane couldn't believe the agony or the fact that she was still alive. Her hands went to her blood soaked throat. Lethargic and cold, Jane realized with a sinking sensation that she had just entered a world of hell that she would never escape.
The Stranger knelt beside Jane and whispered, “Ye have become me slave, me feeding ground."
Astonished, Jane remarked, “You mean, a human rat?"
Smiling grimly, the Stranger nodded. Blood dripped off his chin. Fascinated, Jane watched it fall onto his dark trench coat. Jane's head spun round and round. She wanted to stand and run, but her strength was gone. Fighting to stay awake, she made an effort to get to her feet, but a sea of blackness enclosed its arms about her. Jane fell unconscious to the ground, unaware of the approaching ship.
* * * *
Jane drifted in and out of nightmares. She woke to find herself chained below the ship's deck, alone with only rats for company. She tugged on her chains in vain. Rusty though they were, she wasn't even strong enough to break them. Bleakly, she stopped fighting and stared at a nearby rat.
Jane's stomach grumbled. Am I to be served supper? Or is that also an experiment?
As if in answer to her thoughts, the Stranger suddenly appeared before her. He held a tray filled with food. “Eat, my friend."
"Friend?” Jane wondered. “I thought friends kept each other company, not kept each other captive."
Thoughtfully, the Stranger replied, “There are many types of chains, Jane. They need not be steel to bind one soul to another."
Vincent set the tray beside Jane. Sitting opposite his captive, he rested his back against a wooden pole. Crossing his arms, he watched Jane as she wolfed the food down.
"I know all about you, Jane."
Startled, Jane stopped eating. “What do you mean?"
"Through your blood, your thoughts. You'll know all about me, too, in time. Go on. Eat. Enjoy. Savor the taste. It won't be long before blood will be the only nourishment your body will require."
"Blood?"
"Yes, blood. You do know what that means, don't you? You will be my first fledgling. I am in need of a friend, a true friend. Immortality is often lonely."
"What if I don't want immortality?” Jane whispered.
Vincent's eyes narrowed. “Too bad."
Jane swallowed nervously and looked down at her hands. “I had a life."
"Now you'll have a different life.” Leaning forward, Vincent whispered, “You have no choice in this. I have decided for you."
Getting to his feet, the Stranger smiled wickedly. “The thought of drinking blood appalls you now, but soon, very soon, it will appeal to you. Hopefully, you and I will come to a point when I can set you free of these chains. That I will be able to trust you."
Vincent's eyes darkened, and his smile faded. “Escape would be futile. I know where you are every minute. Your thoughts are my thoughts. I can see through your eyes. We are bonded, you see. Blood ties."
Jane slowly realized she was at the threshold of Hell. There was nothing she could do to stop this monster. “I'm not feeling very well right now. I'm tired."
"You need to rest, then. Let me bid you good night.” Vincent rose to his feet. “Until tomorrow evening."
Jane blinked, and the Stranger was gone. Confused, she pushed the half-eaten tray of food away. The rats immediately swarmed. Sickened, Jane closed her eyes.
* * * *
Jane woke with a start, looking wildly about. Someone had spoken to her, but she could see no one near. Nervously, she raised her hands in order to rub her temples. That's when she realized she was free. No chains bound her. Her heart leapt.
Jane.
Startled, Jane looked around but saw no one. Groggily, she stumbled to her feet and found her way up on the ship's deck. The sun was sitting just above the water, and the ship was nestled in a hidden lagoon. The island's lush tropical jungle came to the water's edge. However, there was a very small strip of beach to the right of the boat. Jane eyed the clear water carefully.
The Stranger's words rang in her ears. Escape would be futile. Your thoughts are my thoughts.
Jane knew in that instant that she had to kill the Stranger if she was to live, but how? Where did the monster sleep? Sitting on the deck, she searched her mind for all the vampire stories she had read. Wasn't it a wooden stake through the heart? Trembling, Jane jumped up, knowing she had little time.
She frantically hunted for anything made of wood and came across a broom. She broke it in half across her knee, tossing aside the bristle end. Gripping the weapon in her right fist, she quietly assessed its potency. Confident, she headed below deck.
Jane hesitated before the captain's cabin door. Cautiously, she placed her hand on the doorknob, but a menacing growl froze her in her tracks. The door swung open to reveal three black panthers standing between her and a veiled bed, protectors of the devil himself.
Jane jumped back, her pulse running wild. The jungle cats growled at her, but they did not leave the cabin. She wished she had a gun to shoot them dead. She dared not enter the room.
As she tried to decide what to do, the sleeping figure on the bed stirred. She had to escape now before it was too late. Jane turned and raced back up to the deck.
Freedom was foremost on her mind. Without a second thought, she threw down the stick, slipped over the side of the ship, and dove into the water. She swam toward the beach as fast as she could. Just as Jane reached the moo
nlit beach, the Stranger appeared on the bow of the ship.
"Stop!"
Looking back over her shoulder, Jane saw the Stranger pointing at her. The vampire's head was thrown back, and his eyes blazed red. Sharp white fangs flashed in the light of the moon.
You've been warned. The Stranger's voice whispered angrily in her ear.
Pushing her mounting fear aside, Jane fled across the beach and into the dark jungle. Adrenaline pumped through her. She was mindless of the beating her body took. Bushes and vines scratched her arms and legs, and she continuously ran into trees that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was too dark for her to see. The trees crowded out the moon, and she relied only on instinct. Her bare feet were bruised and bloodied from rocks and sticks in her flight from the devil.
Jane heard someone crashing through the thicket behind her, closing in fast. With a burst of energy that surprised her, she ran faster. Suddenly, her leg twisted beneath her, causing her to fly forward. Landing face down, she realized she had stepped in a hole. She had no time to gather her wits before the Stranger descended upon her.
Throwing Jane over on her back, the Stranger sneered down at her. “This was a mistake. I see that now. My methods were crude. How could I expect ye to actually want to consort with the devil? Rest assured, young lady, I have learned from this experience. Yer wish is granted. May Heaven's gate open for ye, as it's closed forever for me and mine."
Attacking instantly, the Stranger remorsefully stole the life of an innocent.
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Fourteen
1998—Pride, Louisiana
A cool breeze swirled around the petite woman as she stood on the back porch of her house. Closing her eyes, she thought she heard a robust laughter in her ears. She even fancied that she felt a masculine hand on hers. Yet she knew this to be a product of her imagination.
Sighing wistfully, Kate tuned out the muted voices of mourners within, wishing they would just leave. How can they carry on so when you are six feet under? she thought mournfully. Her heart began to beat erratically, throbbing painfully in her chest. She gasped, desperately trying not to cry. Her brother wouldn't want her to.
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