Book Read Free

The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1)

Page 15

by Aiden James


  Julianne spoke something else in French, which I assumed was a compliment on my appearance judging by the way her eyes scoured me. She made a very slight adjustment to the shoulder of the gown, which improved the lay of the dress on my own curves. I thanked her by way of a smile and then she led me downstairs, where a fairly long jaunt to the deepest regions of the castle brought us to a dining hall. I should’ve guessed it would be even more ostentatious, since it obviously was where the castle’s undead inhabitants liked to hang out. There was enough gold leaf and stained glass to compare to the finest buildings of King Louis’ superfluous kingdom long ago.

  Vampires were everywhere; a quick estimation told me there were roughly sixty of them. Each was unique in their eccentricity of style and clothing. They were also uniformly beautiful—like male and female fashion models that had never seen the light of day. They flitted about between a long, heavy-oak table in the room’s center and huge gold vats nearby. No one had to tell me what was stored in the vats, or within a large crimson-stained crystal punch bowl on the table’s center that they crowded around.

  “Welcome Txema Ybarra!” shouted an especially pale man sitting on a glistening jeweled throne at the end of the table. His skin was almost alabaster, emitting a soft glow under a massive crystal chandelier that hung above the table. “Welcome indeed to ‘le château de douleur!’”

  The man appeared roughly the same age as Racco, and he suddenly rose into the air and drifted toward me. Dressed in a long white robe bearing unusual symbols embroidered in red and gold, he wore a very tall, matching hat that reminded me of what a Pope would wear. He seemed to glide just above the floor, his robe lightly touching the marble squares. As he drew closer, this one’s ethereal glow and longer incisors clearly announced him as the leader amongst the others. That, and the fact the other vampires deferred to his presence, some even bowing as he passed by on his way to where I stood.

  “Txema… I have long awaited this moment!” he enthused. His voice was mellower than any of the others. He smiled, revealing two smaller fangs next to the more prominent incisors. “I am Gustav Domnul-delael—presently the reigning king of Europe’s civilized vampires.”

  I tried not to think long on his silly attire, afraid to laugh. He seemed stranger than anyone else, and therefore, much more dangerous. There was an almost palpable aura of power accompanying him and some primal instinct within me warned that he could obliterate my entire existence with just a thought. When he took my hand, he did so gently, and I could tell his fingers alone could crush mine into dust. Maybe that’s what living for several thousand years will do to you.

  His eyes were a mixture of blue and gold—hard to define in a continuous flux of color as they glowed preternaturally. They were much more intense than any of the other vampires’ eyes.

  “This is quite a place you’ve got here,” I told him, unsure what to say to such a person.

  I mean, king of the undead, and apart from that fact scary as hell? I could tell the former human was once quite a looker in his day, with a sleek nose and high cheekbones.

  Perhaps Gustav would still be considered comely, in a ‘Friday the Thirteenth’ sort of way. Think about it—do you know someone with kaleidoscope eyes and skin whiter than snow? Other than something in an old Beatles cartoon? I think not… hopefully not, anyway.

  “Yes-s-s… it certainly is,” he said, studying me as if trying to piece together the rampant thoughts colliding in my head.

  His French accent was barely discernible, and only revealed itself in certain words. There was another accent, too, and camouflaged beneath the French it was harder to define. Perhaps it was much older, and disguised on purpose.

  “You must be hungry. As you can see, we have included a unique variety of entrees tonight,” he said, motioning to the table filled with far more delectable items than were present on Racco’s yacht. “Some of it comes from what Armando told us that you like, and other offerings might take some time to acquire an appreciative taste. I believe you are an adventurous girl, Txema, and as such, would be game for something different this evening.”

  The way he said this last part sent a chill up my spine—far worse than the vampire’s close proximity to my body. Hell, with so many of them gathered in one room, I wished to God I brought a jacket to keep me warm. Roaring fires burning in the two fireplaces on either side of the room did little to dispel the chill in the air.

  “Dear father, I do not believe she will be sharing a taste of anything warm and wet with us tonight!”

  I whirled around when the voice behind me erupted into uproarious laughter. Armando stood there, wearing an impish grin, and Franz stood smiling nearby.

  “Armando? I should’ve known it was you!” I could scarcely control my enthusiasm. It was so good to see him—and not just because the Vampire King gave me the willies. “Where have you been?”

  He stepped back, feigning offense, although surely he understood my rebuke was intended as a playful jab.

  “Franz and I had…things to take care of back in the States,” he said, motioning to his companion, who nodded supportively. “But, we are here now.”

  He allowed the grin to widen to a gorgeous vampire smile. Both he and Franz were dressed in the black leather attire they wore when I was taken to the cave in the Smoky Mountains the week before.

  “Chanson told me that you were in Tennessee,” I said. “Can you tell me about Peter? What about Tyreen and Johnny? Are they all okay?”

  He eyed me with compassion that seemed almost human in its sincerity.

  “Come, let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for permission from Gustav, who nodded while smiling at me.

  I shivered, turning my attention to the table while Armando guided me to it. The aroma of roast beef awakened the raging hunger Gustav had sensed within me. One of the servants from Racco’s yacht offered to carve a few slices for me. I then added some vegetables and a small salad to go with it.

  “Would you like some wine, Txema?”

  Racco’s soothing voice immediately surrounded me with warmth, and once I turned toward it, I nearly ran into him.

  “Whoa! I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, laughing while carefully keeping the glass of merlot he had poured for me from spilling on the white dinner jacket he wore.

  He set the glass down next to my plate, and then seated himself to my right. Armando eyed him sullenly from my left.

  “Your boyfriend, Peter? He is fine, and anxious for your reunion!” Armando announced, and I could tell from the way he looked beyond me that this news was intended as much for the ‘Lord of this Manor’ as for me.

  “Reunion? You mean, I will see him again soon?”

  I experienced the weirdest feeling right then. It was such a mixture of joy and guilt, for both the man I loved and the one I lusted after the past few days.

  “Yes!”

  Armando offered more exuberance at Racco’s expense. I could feel Racco bristle next to me, as if this wasn’t a development he anticipated. The heat of embarrassment rushed to my face.

  “So that is good news, no?” Armando continued, reveling in the moment. I looked up and caught a glimpse of Garvan, who stared at us from across the room. Dressed as if still part of Marie Antoinette’s court—with a powdered white wig to boot—he wore a satisfied smile that told me he was listening intently to our conversation. “Tyreen is okay, too.”

  “She is? Oh, thank God!”

  It was like an incredibly heavy load suddenly lifted off my shoulders. Tyreen survived her attack! Since Saturday night’s abduction, I had thrown myself into every distraction available to keep from dwelling upon the idea that something terrible had happened to Tyreen, and that her wounds from the chupacabra vampires were fatal—like what happens to vampire bite victims in campy horror flicks.

  “And, Johnny?” I persisted. “He’s okay too, right?”

  “Yes, he seems fine,” Armando assured me. “Maybe when this crisis is over, we can invite them all fo
r a little visit, no?”

  “I wish I could go home and see them,” I said, feeling so homesick that I thought I’d cry at any moment. “I really miss them!”

  “There, there, my chéri,” Racco whispered in my ear, placing his left arm around my shoulder as he drew close. I began to weep. Armando’s playful smile disappeared, fading into a look of sullen anger as his eyes moved from me to Racco. But it was nowhere near the look of disdain that Garvan shot him from across the room. In an instant, he traveled across the room to us.

  “You should court someone your own age, don’t you think?” said Garvan, disdainfully, supported by hearty nods from both Armando and Franz. “Perhaps if we care to list the recent steady string of female company cavorting about your bedchamber, Txema would take her leave from you forever.”

  “I’ve got the list!” Armando exalted. He launched into a twirling dance, pantomiming exaggerated arm and hand movements to illustrate an endless series of pages.

  “Is such childishness necessary?” Racco’s tone was much more acidic than what I’d heard previously from him. “Perhaps we could toss your caskets out into the meadow behind the castle. As long as the local gentry will ignore their presence, you could last a century or two!”

  He squeezed my shoulder and drew closer. The scent from his virile spice cologne embraced me, and with each passing moment, the situation became worse… at least for me.

  Racco made it seem like a joke, but no one near us laughed. I just wanted to get as far away as I could from all of this. Garvan seemed the most put off by Racco’s behavior, his fangs elongating while he growled menacingly.

  “It isn’t like either one of you can keep her warm at night, and deliver the daily human companionship she deserves!” taunted Racco, wearing a smirk that clearly announced he was unafraid.

  The trio of vampires shifted slightly, each taking a more aggressive and threatening stance against Racco. I expected some kind of a fight to erupt, but suddenly a green blur appeared in front of me. Something cold grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the four of them.

  “Grab her plate and wine!”

  In the next instant, I was transported to the very head of the table, next to Gustav, who had returned to his throne. I started to feel sick, but then I noticed Chanson stood beside me. She was dressed in a beautiful forest green gown with a matching petticoat. Cumbersome clothing to race around in, unless one happens to be a vampire.

  Raquel stood to her left, holding my plate, while Nora held the glass of merlot I had yet to taste. The two of them were dressed similarly to Chanson. In addition to the rose gown with a pink petticoat she wore, Raquel’s face was adorned with diamond and ruby chips in swirling designs that I assumed were pasted to her ashen cheeks. Like some avant-garde punk rocker born a few centuries too early, but obviously free to express her wilder side amongst her peers.

  Nora’s gown and undergarments consisted of elegant lace, completely black. Very fitting for the matron among these vampires. A quick glance around me confirmed that these three were among the most striking females gathered there that night.

  “Men and boys never change when it comes to trying to impress the object of their affections,” Chanson observed, shaking her head with a wry grin on her face. “Surely you were more than ready to be rescued, cousin!”

  “Yes… I must admit, you’re right about that,” I agreed, disappointed by the simmering hostility among male immortals.

  I took a moment to look back at the angry vampires and their alchemist counterpart. Armando and Garvan eyed me sullenly while Franz stood stoically behind them. Racco still seemed indifferent to their collective disdain, raising his half-empty glass of wine in salute while he shot me yet another seductive look.

  “You should be grateful we rescued you when we did!” teased Raquel, revealing a beautiful smile I had only seen glimpses of—the sure sign her initial reservations had given way to at least some affection for me. “Eat before your food gets too cold!”

  She motioned for me to sit down again at the table, with the three females standing around me. Gustav smiled, and also encouraged me to eat my dinner. My hunger had steadily worsened. I dug into the contents of my plate like a starving peasant. I managed to ignore the fact that each of my current vampire companions carried crystal goblets filled with a thick crimson liquid. Obviously blood; it would normally make me squeamish, whether it was human or not. But, I cleaned my plate just the same.

  “How do you like your room?” asked Chanson, pouring me another glass of wine after I drained my first serving.

  “It’s a little big,” I said, thinking how cold my bedchamber was despite the presence of a large canopy bed piled high with thick blankets. Not to mention the enormous fireplace in the middle of the room. “But, I like it. I loved the crazy big entertainment system.”

  Thinking about how cold the room felt, I glanced at Gustav, who looked amused. He seemed less sinister and frightening to me on a full stomach. Maybe it was the wine.

  “All of us will be pleased to show you around,” said Nora, her English accent sounding more refined than when we were on the ship. “It may take some getting used to, but you will lack for nothing in terms of comfort.”

  I smiled and nodded politely, thinking to myself how I didn’t want to get used to this place. Not at all! In my mind, it remained a short vacation. I hoped to get back home soon, maybe in the next few days.

  “You must be wondering why we have gone to such trouble to bring you here,” said Gustav, pausing to allow the petticoat trio to refresh their goblets with fresh plasma from the punch bowl and return to their seats. Raquel sat next to me, on my right, and Chanson and Nora took the seats across from me. Gustav’s throne loomed above us all to my left.

  “Truly, it has been many centuries since something this severe has befallen us,” Gustav continued. “If not for the recent events that have resulted in only one of your kind left in the world—one ‘porteuse saine de sang’, we would have waited until you were older to become fully acquainted.”

  “So, you’re saying there’s no one else like me? Garvan and Armando said something about a few other girls somewhere in France.” I thought about what the two had said last week when they visited me in my dorm room. I also recalled what Grandma Terese told me, that my two cousins had been killed.

  “You are indeed the last one to survive… the very last one,” said Gustav. A sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “May ‘Les Amantes de Vampire’ live on!”

  The rest of the room erupted into applause. I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious, as though I were on a stage in the lead role for which I had not learned my lines. The vampires continued to celebrate my presence. Some floated toward me as they cheered and clapped, while most clinked their goblets together, spilling crimson droplets to the floor, and all of them smiled. The only exception was Racco, who looked out of place as he studied me in silence from across the table.

  “That’s what you all call me? I’m one of the ‘vampire lovers?’”

  What kind of name was that, anyway? My French wasn’t quite strong enough to know what the phrase stood for, but the monster Ralu defined it for me in my dream the other night. I never anticipated hearing the same phrase so soon.

  “Yes,” he said, his tone much softer. “You are the last living descendant of this sacred bloodline. I hope you will allow me to be frank and speak clearly regarding matters which concern you most… matters which you need to understand in order to continue surviving.”

  I nodded for him to go on.

  “The bearers of the teardrop birthmark have always been given elite status among your Basque ancestors, and before that, it was considered a holy sign which Turkish and Hungarian rulers used to determine who would maintain the royal lineage,” he explained, waiting for me to acknowledge my understanding. His eyes seemed to dance with intense energy as he studied my face, finding something there to elicit a brighter smile.

  Then he continued. “The bloodline
you carry is far more ancient than that, Txema. In my youth in Mesopotamia, nearly five thousand years ago, there were those among us who bore the same mark you have on your neck.”

  “Does that mean the birthmark originated in the ancient world?”

  Pretty obvious, I know. But, heady information like this needed to be explicitly defined, and not taken merely at face value. After all, imagine how this sort of thing would come across if it had been part of the ‘tell us about yourself’ introduction I had to participate in, during UT’s freshman orientation this past August.

  “Yes, it did,” he confirmed, chuckling, as if privy to my latest musing. “According to our legends, vampires and this mysterious mark originated within a century of each other. It is unclear as to which came first, but the advent for both took place thousands of years before my birth, and they have always been dependant on each other.

  “Once prevalent among both males and females at the time of Atlantis, the mark eventually changed to where it became a dominant female trait in ancient Egypt and India. During the past four thousand years, I have watched the birthmark diminish to near extinction six times, as the carriers spread northward into Europe. Those occasions were natural events that the vampire kingdoms weathered. This most recent crisis, however, has been brought about by those who want the separate distinction between privileged vampires and those less fortunate to end.”

  Not necessarily a terrible thing, I thought to myself. Peace and harmony seem like desirable outcomes for most citizens of the world, in my humble opinion.

  “What makes it such a big deal for you to need the ones who bear the birthmark?” I said. “I know you need to feed on people and all, but why is it so imperative to keep someone like me around?”

  Gustav released a long, low sigh before answering me.

 

‹ Prev