Cameo and the Vampire (Trilogy of Shadows Book 3)

by Dawn McCullough-White

  "I believe that's true," Kyrian stated. "He's been very callous with her."

  Gibson cursed Avamore under his breath for sending him on this impossible task. "Even if that proves to be the case, she's not welcome to be in my company," he said as he turned, and the others watched him march away.

  "Gibson!" Carrington called after him. "When will we leave to confront the vampire? Perhaps Kyrian can give us better details about him. A better idea of where to find him. We could use this information."

  The older man continued down the hallway, keeping up a relentless pace with the young warrior at his heels. "Gibson!"

  Caith took a bite of the apple and smiled at the others. "So, Kyrian, you're part of the infamous Cameo Gang? You just keep getting more and more interesting. Say, when do you think Cameo will arrive here? You will introduce us, won't you?"

  Kyrian faked a smile, nodding, wishing he hadn't revealed quite so much to people he didn't really know very well.

  * * * * *

  "Where do you think we are?"

  Cameo drank down the remainder of her flask, meeting Jules' eyes with a sour expression as she swallowed the whiskey. She shivered.

  "Still tastes bad?"

  She nodded. "Awful."

  He turned to face south, the direction she had been staring when he approached her. "South still?"

  "Yes." There was a shade lingering just behind the barn, and she silently beckoned to it, motioning for it to stay with Jules. As it neared her, the form looked much more like a middle-aged man—a dead middle-aged man, in the ragged clothing of a vagabond. It came to stand beside him.

  Jules turned suddenly and looked at her as if he suspected she was up to something. "What was that?"

  "What?" she countered.

  He pulled his cloak about him. "Nothing, I thought I ... nothing."

  "Is Opal awake?"

  Jules looked away, his long, dark hair shaking as he turned. "We should stop at an inn."

  "I suppose. I could use more alcohol."

  "Yeah, that makes sense."

  She stared at his back for a minute. He was quite a bit taller than her, and as he stood in the cold breeze, she could smell the unnatural scent that clung to him, an odd smell of leather and fresh death. "What should I drink?"

  "I don't know," his voice was soft.

  "Perhaps I should give in to it?"

  The morning had been a calm one. The storm of the previous night had passed, and they stood in a foot of snow in the middle of the woods. It was quiet, except for an occasional breeze and the cawing of a bird overhead.

  He sighed and then turned back to look over his shoulder at her, "Perhaps." His face was ashen, and like her he was fully clothed in black leather that fastened with buttons up to his chin, nearly. It was the only visible part of him where she could make out an artery. One single inch of the bluish tinge, and she felt it, pulsing with lifeblood. The sudden skip of his heart....

  Jules put one hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Are you all right?"

  Cameo took one step back, stunned. She had just been completely in tune with the rhythm of his body. His breath, his heart, and the flow of his blood. "Fine."

  "Really? For one moment I thought—"

  "Keep it to yourself," she stormed away.

  "All right."

  She clasped a hand over her lips. The dog's blood must've left her system or worn off or something. No wonder she was craving blood again, Jules' blood. At least it wasn't Opal's blood that she wanted to drink. Cameo glanced up at Jules as she stood at the barn door. He was just staring at her. Two white eyes staring back at her. It was one thing to crave the blood of a dead animal pooling on a plate, but it was quite another to long to taste the blood of a human—or in Jules' case, of a fellow zombie. At least he was just a zombie, she supposed. She closed the rickety door shut behind her. Am I descending into vampirism of my own accord? Is that possible? Is this how vampires are made, simply by craving human blood? Is this what Edel went through? But no, Edel had spoken of stages of descent. Stages involving being bitten several times. She had been bitten twice. Was that enough? What had he done to her?

  "Aha, there you are, my dear," Opal beamed at her.

  She focused on his face, one hand still gripping her mouth closed too tightly. "Good morning."

  Chapter Five

  They were moving south on Gallop Road. Despite the name, Gallop Road was actually more of a path that the locals had cut through the Forest of Yetta. There was one set of footprints in the snow in front of their own, presumably from a hunter or perhaps someone who lived in a cottage deep in the wood. Cameo, Opal, and Jules had been traveling for about eight miles when they came upon what looked like a two-room house just off the path. It was quiet. Smoke curled from the chimney, and a small group of horses was tied to trees outside. Luck upon luck, they had just stumbled onto a tavern in the middle of nowhere. Well, maybe there was a settlement of some sort nearby, but there was very little activity from what they could see in the snow.

  The horses spooked as Cameo and Jules passed them, alerting some of the people inside that someone was coming, someone that the horses didn't like.

  Cameo swung the front door open; she and Jules were the first inside. Within was a small front room with a fireplace and two heavy tables and a ladder at the far end that led to a second floor—this was someone's home converted into a tavern. The place was pretty empty, with only four men inside, all dressed in heavy clothing with muskets lying on the floor beside them. Probably hunters. They were red in the face, flushed with the drink and possibly laughter. But their smiles drooped as they beheld the three who had just walked in. Cameo and Jules met their stares with defiant expressions, expecting trouble.

  To the left was a second, much smaller room with a bar. Cameo sauntered into that room, followed by Opal and then finally Jules.

  An old woman was standing behind the small, dark wood bar, and off to one side was a young man of about twenty-five, with long, red hair and a rather garish ensemble that rivaled Opal's. He was standing in a corner, off by himself, and peering at them over a tankard of something.

  "What can I get ya?" the old woman asked, placing her hands on the bar and leaning toward them, giving the impression that she was intent on hearing them clearly and that she might be a bit scrappy.

  "What are you serving for lunch?"

  "Venison."

  Cameo's face softened, and she nearly smiled, so relieved to have actually found something decent to eat. "We'll have that, and some wrapped up for travel as well."

  The woman nodded. "All right. I'll go and get that out of the smokehouse."

  Opal caught her on the way out, "Can I get an ale, love?"

  She grinned at him, clutching a clay pipe between missing teeth. "All outta ale. My husband made a trip down to Hangingford just today to get some more. We have cider and perry."

  Cameo cursed silently. She was not in the mood for distilled pears.

  Black Opal smiled at the woman thoughtfully. "Cider will be fine, my dear. Whenever you get the chance."

  "Oh, I like you," she cackled as she threw on a cloak and swept out the door.

  The dandy watched her go with a look of fondness, and as he did so he met with the eyes of one of the robust hunters in the main room who was glancing after the older woman protectively. Probably a relative.

  Opal turned his back to the man and stood up straight, lips pursed skyward arrogantly. He was thankful to be somewhere warm, even if it was in a place where the clientele seemed inbred.

  "Not from around here," said the young man in the corner, grinning at them.

  Jules met him with a cold stare.

  Opal narrowed his eye, focusing on the gold trim on the man's rather attractive waistcoat, which glittered in the very limited window light. "And where are you from? Clearly not out hunting in this weather with these other gentlemen, I presume."

  He emitted a short, quick laugh. "No, no.... Do they wear clothes this grand to hunt
bear where you come from, old boy?"

  The highwayman flushed with anger. "I really have no idea; I don't associate with hunters."

  Jules kicked him in the heel.

  Opal glanced to the right. Apparently the men in the next room were listening to every word he said, and two of them were getting up to leave. The dandy ignored Jules' warning entirely and turned back to face the redhead.

  "Oh, is that how it is, is it?" the young man chuckled. "No love among thieves, I suppose."

  Cameo, who had been rifling around behind the bar, looked up at the subtle accusation from the young dandy. “I have coin.”

  “Yes,” replied the lad, “but were you planning on sharing it with Granny Anya when she gets back with your venison?”

  "Of course," she answered tersely.

  "Wouldn't you?" Opal pressed.

  "Oh, of course I would. Stealing is wrong."

  "Who are you again? Do we know you?" the highwayman asked, seeming intrigued. He took a couple steps toward the young man.

  "Jody Fitzrory," he beamed and made to shake Opal's hand, but Opal didn't offer it, and after a moment Jody's eyes followed the length of his arm down to the odd-looking cage-like splint that encased Opal's hand. He seemed at a sudden loss for what to say, and then with a twinkle in his eyes, he smiled back up at Opal and said, "Jody Crimson Fitzrory is what most folks call me, of course. Crimson to the ladies." He winked.

  "Kill me," Jules hissed.

  Opal's mouth opened. For a moment he was completely demoralized. Is that what he sounded like? "Uh, perhaps, my dear," he said to Cameo while still staring at Jody in disbelief, "we should sit down."

  "Well, maybe I'll join you in a little while. This place certainly lacks cultured folks. Hey, what was it you said your name was?"

  "Frederick, Frederick Black." Opal's tone was now grave. He was anxious to leave this person and move into another room.

  "That's a fine name. I'll be pleased to have my lunch with you soon, Freddy." He smiled and then looked past them at a young fop who had just entered the tavern and was brushing snow off his shoulders.

  Without another word Jody moved past them, one hand on the hilt of his rapier, and met the fop.

  "So you came."

  "Of course I did," the young man replied, annoyed. "Is this really necessary? A duel? I didn't know it was your horse, all right? Can't we just—"

  "It's my honor at stake, Bernard."

  He sighed, "It's just a horse."

  "That's no way to treat an animal."

  "Can't go a day without a fight, can you Fitzrory?"

  He smiled. "No."

  Cameo watched them quarreling, and then the old woman who ran the tavern, Anya, pressed past them, carrying what seemed to be a heavy package. Jody and the other young man parted to allow her to pass and then, never taking their eyes off each other, strode out the door.

  Anya hefted the package onto the bar and then tossed a pair of wet mittens down and clapped her hands together, "Well, I tell you it's cold out there!"

  Opal's smile returned as he heard her voice.

  "Why don't you lot have a sit-down out there in the dining room, and I'll bring your food right out to ya."

  "Right," Cameo said, never taking her eyes from the door.

  "At least he's gone," Jules hissed, following Cameo's gaze.

  "My love?" Opal moved to the empty table.

  Cameo stood still, her body rigid, facing the door. Only her eyes flitted in his direction.

  "Could you .... Would you be so kind?" he motioned toward his duster, wet from the snowfall.

  She was suddenly behind him, helping him out of the coat. She moved quickly, a little too quickly.

  Jules glanced up at her in alarm. Someone else must have noticed, perhaps the two men at the other table, or the innkeeper's wife, but as he inspected the room, no one else seemed to be paying them any attention.

  The door opened and Jody Fitzrory came back in, breathing heavily and grinning. He looked right at the three and then ran back toward the bar, as if he'd forgotten something, and then headed back toward their table carrying his tankard.

  Anya was right behind him, carrying two plates, the first of which she set down in front of Cameo, and then Jules. "Now don't you worry, fine sir," she tapped Opal on the shoulder. "I haven't forgotten your meal."

  "Oh, look, a new conquest," Jules sneered.

  "Looks like I arrived just in time to enjoy lunch with you after all," Jody beamed and sat down on the other side of Black Opal.

  "And where is your handsome young friend?" Opal inquired.

  This seemed to amuse Jody. "Who? That lad that was just in here? Ha, ha. Handsome, hmm? No offense, of course. I just assumed you were with—" he gestured toward Cameo.

  "Here's your venison and your cider," Anya said, setting them down in front of Opal. "Did you two also want cider?"

  "That's fine," Cameo uttered, and Jules nodded.

  Opal glanced over at her now; he would need her to actually feed him, in front of this buffoon. Things couldn't get too much more humiliating.

  Jules looked up suddenly, focusing his white eyes on Jody. "I think I must've been ignoring you or something, but didn't you just leave?"

  The dandy paled at first, but then recovering quickly he chuckled, "Those sure are some crazy eyes you've got there."

  Jules was motionless, staring into Jody's eyes. He said nothing.

  Jody turned around. "Hey, Granny. I could sure go for some venison my-darn-self."

  "Fine. Comin' right up!"

  Jules and Opal appeared to be contemplating murder.

  "And you, lady," Jody called to Cameo. "Ain't you going to eat that? I haven't seen you touch a bite—"

  A moment later she had walked out the door.

  "Well, well, now. Call of nature I suspect."

  * * * * *

  Cameo walked a few steps out into the snow. There were footsteps going in every direction from the front door, people moving to their horses, others straight back to the road, footsteps that led to the smokehouse or a tree. And then she noticed to her left a drop of blood on the snow, and she began to walk to the left, around the side of the tavern, in shadow. There she followed footprints around the side of the structure and turned around the building, where there was a woodpile. For a moment she stopped and gazed out beyond the tavern into an open yard, likely used for a small garden in summer. She wasn't certain where she expected to find the other fop. There was nothing but forest all around this place, and Jody could've dumped the body anywhere, but then an odd sound caught her attention: a painful intake of air, a low, muted gasp for breath.

  She strode purposefully over to the woodpile and knocked most of the timber out of her way, successfully toppling the entire pile.

  The young man lay at the bottom of the wood. He was alive.

  "You found me!" he smiled, his voice was exuberant, though little more than a whisper.

  Cameo glanced down at the blood-stained shirt. He had taken a strike through the ribs, but it didn't appear fatal. She met his eyes.

  "Damn that Jody Fitzrory," he breathed. "All this over a horse!"

  As she stood there staring down at the young man, she realized that she longed to taste his blood.

  "How ever did you find me, dear lady?"

  She could smell the blood oozing from the wound, and for a moment she caught the familiar sensation of Edel's presence. Though she couldn't explain it, she felt him there. The scent of his moldy jacket lingered in the air—decaying flowers and old death. It was as if he were standing right there with her, but she couldn't see him. For one moment Cameo spun 'round, quickly, at her zombie speed, too fast for this wounded lad to understand, though he said nothing.

  Edel was not there—at least that's what her eyes were telling her. She couldn't see him. She hesitated, glancing down at the young man lying in the snow before her once more. He was pitiful, helpless, and his blood was dying the snow scarlet. As she gazed at the young man,
an unfathomable idea formed in her. Am I a vampire? Is this what Edel's bite has done to me? The young man was just staring at her. Two blue eyes staring back at her.

  She looked sadly at him. "I expected that you had died, young man."

  "I would have frozen to death out here if not for you—"

  She pulled her dagger from its sheath with unnatural speed and slit his throat before he was able to finish, and there he was laid out before her, dead.

  He was a young man, Kyrian’s age, lying there before her, his throat now gaping, and blood gushing from the wound, staining the white lace.

  Cameo licked his blood from her blade, and she then felt the humming sensation begin, the buzzing in her temples, and a light flutter in her stomach.

  She saw a pair of black feet on the ground directly in front of her. She glanced up to find the cloudy form of a man—a ghost—watching her with an evil longing on his face. And then she felt Edel again. There was the clearest sensation of a hand on her arm, and in the wintry air she caught the feeling of him again. His calm. She could not see him, but she could feel him there. He hadn't died. Nor had he gone away. He was with her still.

  She dared not speak his name. Dared not believe. She shook off the idea of Edel, and ignoring the pair of ghostly feet in the snow, she turned back to the dead young man, ripped open his shirt and pressed her mouth to drink from his wound.

  * * * * *

  "My dear?!"

  "Don't shout."

  Cameo rounded the corner of the tavern, her cloak spinning as she neared her companions. There seemed to be a spring in her step.

  "We've been looking for you, my love—"

  Their eyes widened.

  Opal took a step toward her. "Why, you look ... younger. Is that possible?"

  "Your eyes ...."

  "They're blue!"

  "We should go," she said, leading them toward the path they had been following to Ponth.