by Jodie Pierce
The Vampire Queen
By
Jodie Pierce
Eternal Press
A division of Damnation Books, LLC.
P.O. Box 3931
Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998
www.eternalpress.biz
The Vampire Queen
by Jodie Pierce
Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-361-4
Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-362-1
Cover art by: Amanda Kelsey
Edited by: Andrea Heacock-Reyes
Copyright 2011 Jodie Pierce
Printed in the United States of America
Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights
1st North American and UK Print Rights
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
I would like to dedicate this book to my loving husband, John, who has supported my writing from day one; who has always been there for me and is the love of my life.
Chapter One
She awoke with an intense hunger in the pit of her stomach. A hunger the likes of which she had never known before. She opened her eyes to a room that was pitch black and felt strange to her. She swung her feet over the side of the bed, and as they touched the floor, the candles on the wall lit automatically. She was too taken back by this, and she jumped back into the giant bed. Just then, she heard a door open and voices. The voices were coming toward her.
“Come on, Mistress. Time to get up and get ready for the ball,” said the younger one.
“Master will be displeased if you keep him waiting,” the older slave said as she pulled the covers back and motioned for her to follow. She went upstairs with the slaves and into the bathroom, where a large tub full of water and rose petals was waiting for her.
“You should drink something. It will calm your nerves,” said the older slave. She was about to decline when she noticed her left hand trembling. She gratefully took the wine glass the younger slave handed her and gulped down the wine. The glass was refilled and placed next to the tub. She got in the tub, and the slaves started scrubbing her. First, her hair. Then, her feet, hands, and back. They left her more delicate parts for her to clean. Then, they rinsed and rinsed her mounds of curly hair, until they were satisfied, and explained they would be back in 20 minutes to towel her off.
As she sat there in the peace and quiet, she proceeded to drink the wine. It tasted good and left her with a sense of euphoria. She ran her tongue over her teeth as she gazed dreamily into the distance. She was not really looking at or thinking about anything specific, but she was content. She must have finished off her wine and dozed off, because the next thing she knew, the two slaves were back and telling her she needed to hurry to get dressed in time. They dried her off with very plush and sweet smelling towels and wrapped her in a purple bathrobe. They wrapped her hair in a turban and led her back downstairs to her bedroom. As she walked through the house, she noticed that no one else was present. She found that strangely odd. Where was this “Master”?
When she returned to her bedroom, there was an elegant, purple gown laid out on the bed for her. She held it up to her and squealed in delight, before the older woman put it back on the bed with a look of impatience. She was seated in a chair where the younger slave did her makeup while the older slave unlaced the front of the gown.
“What is your name?” she asked. The young slave girl looked a little taken back but whispered “Coletta”. She smiled at the girl. “Thank you,” she whispered back. The young girl blushed and focused on mixing her eye shadows.
“What is my name?” she whispered, again. The young girl looked up, shocked.
“Why, you are Countess Paulina de Lourdes,” she whispered.
“Does that mean I’m married?” the Countess asked.
“You have an ‘arrangement’ with our Master,” Coletta said out loud, surprised.
“Hush girl,” scolded the older slave. “Why you bothering her? You done?” She took the Countess from Coletta and put her in front of the makeup table. She let the Countess’s hair fall out of the turban and started to fluff the curls and put them in place. Her thick, burgundy hair was drying fast.
This was the first time she had seen herself, and she didn’t recognize anything in the mirror. She was tall with slender arms and legs. A tight butt and plump breasts. She had beautiful, unblemished, olive skin and entrancing, almond eyes. A flat abdomen and cute feet. Who was this person she was looking at? She didn’t remember an old self to compare to, so this must be her, but where were her memories? Who is Countess Paulina de Lourdes?
The women started to get her dressed. She had to hold on to the bedpost as the older slave laced up the top corset part of the dress. It was strapless, but it pushed up her breasts and made breathing difficult. The bottom of the dress hung straight down to the floor with a slit up the right side from the floor to mid-thigh. They placed the high heel shoes on her feet, the shawl around her shoulders, and led her upstairs to the parlor where she was to wait for the Count. She received two final instructions from them.
“Do not embarrass the Count,” said Coletta.
“Just go along with whatever he says,” warned the older one. What could they mean? They were gone before she could ask.
She waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, she heard the clicking of dress shoes on the marble floor. When the Count entered the room, she rose to her feet but was too stunned to say a word.
“Countess de Lourdes,” he said as he took her right hand and kissed the top of it. She detected a strange accent, but it added to his sex appeal and charm.
“Thank you for joining me, tonight,” he said.
“The pleasure is mine,” she curtsied. What was that? she thought to herself. I’m not nine years old. Grownups don’t curtsy. He smiled and bowed as if he could read her thoughts. All she could do was smile back.
“Shall we take our leave?” he asked.
“That would be grand.” Grand? Who says grand, anymore? she thought to herself. She decided to speak as little as possible for the rest of the evening.
He escorted her outside, and there were four white horses attached to a covered carriage waiting for them. He offered her his hand, like a gentleman, and assisted her up into the carriage. Once inside, she noticed everything was done in purple velvet. Light purple velvet seats, dark purple velvet curtains, and a medium purple velvet blanket to keep warm. She had not noticed earlier, but from her sideways glances, she could see that the Count had on the same color purple cummerbund as her dress. Just as she started to wonder who else had worn her dress—the coincidences were amazing—she heard music, and the carriage stopped. They had arrived at the ball.
Chapter Two
The Count stepped down from the carriage first. He then turned and offered a hand to help the Countess down. As they walked in, he whispered, “Remember, follow my lead. Pretend you know these people, and add a hint of snobbery for good measure, but don’t go overboard.” Snobbery? Her? She didn’t know if she could pull it off, but then she heard the voices of the slave women, “Don’t displease Master, whatever you do.” She decided she had to try her best, as she was too afraid of the unknown consequences.
They entered the large ballroom doors and were loudly announced by a small man with a large voi
ce. The music continued to play, but everyone stopped what they were doing to stare. She felt all eyes in the room staring at her. Surely, this was a mistake. They were also staring at the Count. He started to walk forward, leading her through the crowd. She heard whispers that were definitely and unmistakably about her.
“Typical of her to make such a grand entrance after all this time,” one woman said.
“Look at that dress. She might as well be wearing nothing,” snorted another.
“She knew it would be a costume ball. It always is, and she’s always thought she’s too good to participate,” sneered another woman.
“She was always one to flaunt her beauty and curves. Mildred, why won’t you wear a dress like that?” asked an overly plump man aloud before receiving a smack across the face from his wife.
“Keep moving. You are doing fine,” the Count encouraged. He led her to the center of the main table, where there was a beautiful, ornately-carved chair with purple velvet waiting in the center for her. He held her chair and ushered her to sit. He then took his place in the chair to the right of hers. It was the same, except it had red velvet. He clapped his hands twice, and the people went back to their events. Red wine was immediately brought to the Countess in a jeweled, gold chalice, and the supply never ran low. She was in such a euphoric state the entire night, she didn’t notice the lack of food at the event.
The Countess did notice the women were dressed very differently from her, but she wouldn’t be caught dead in their dresses. She was comfortable and felt sexy in hers. They wore dresses from the mid-nineteenth century. They had large hoop skirts, a waist so small and tight the Countess wondered how they breathed, and most of the dresses for the younger girls exposed their shoulders. The older ones wore shawls. They either wore bonnets—yuck—or their hair was in ringlets. No wonder they all stared at her. I’m a diamond amongst them, she thought.
The entire event, couples would come up in front of the table to “welcome back” the Countess. The Count would say, “You remember Gustavo and Inge Guiggenstein from Germany,” aloud as they approached the table. Then, they could talk freely, and she could use their names. So the evening went—a parade of couples with fake “well wishes” and fake “welcome backs”. No trumpets and definitely no floats. Finally, the Countess exclaimed she was tired. The Count stood up and called for silence. He announced, “the Countess is tired”. To this, there was a room full of sarcastic laughter and applause. They all knew this meant she had actually grown bored with them but was being polite. “She will be retiring for the evening from her duties,” he said. With that, he helped her from her chair, and they walked the long walk through the ballroom to the doors.
Through the whispers, the same first woman muttered, “She is shameless.”
“She doesn’t look well. Maybe she has become weak.” In an instant, the Countess had the second woman by the throat, and her lips were close to the other woman’s ear. She had her pinned up against the wall.
“Don’t even think for a second that I couldn’t kill you right here,” she hissed into the woman’s ear, with a bead of saliva rolling off her lip and rage in her voice. “Remember this as your one free pass, Angelina. You won’t get another.”
With that, she let go of the woman and walked out of the ballroom with total composure. After the Count had gotten into the carriage, and it started to move, she snapped back into reality. She started to scoot as far away from him as possible. Surely he would be mad at her. She had embarrassed him, had she not?
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. As he looked out the window, he mumbled, “People have learned to expect that from you.” She was dumbfounded and silent the rest of the ride home.
Chapter Three
He sat in the big, comfy chair next to her bed. He silently watched her from the shadows as she wrestled through her sleep. There was so much evil in this room. The air was still and smelled like an old, Egyptian tomb—opened for the first time in centuries since being sealed. Evil that, once unleashed, would be hard to control. It was the same evil that was awoken every 100 years or at the turn of the century, depending on if she got bored and took off early, and it could resurrect an entire race of people. His people.
Though, the Count was not thinking about that, tonight. No, the Count wondered how much longer he could keep this beautiful woman to himself. He knew they shared a bond and not just the “arrangement” they had, where he looked after her for everything from her finances all the way down to the protection of her life. An arrangement that had never been shared between two of their kind before. Just as he was pondering this, still asleep but as if she could sense him, the Countess moved over on the bed closer to him. She reached out an arm and placed her hand on his thigh. He checked her breathing, and she was definitely still asleep. This was his confirmation that their connection was stronger than he originally thought. Surely by now, the “Others” would start manipulating her dreams and attempt to steal her from him. They were very predictable to the Count, and he knew it was only a matter of time. They wanted her this time around so badly, they could taste it. They would stop at nothing to sway her and win her over to their side. The Count had been successful the last 800 years, so the “Others” feel they are due and their time is now. He had to keep her for himself, even if it meant the ultimate sacrifice.
Chapter Four
She thrashed through what seemed like an endless sleep. She would often cry out, but it would either be in a foreign language she didn’t know she could speak or just hysterical sobs. The help refused to go to her at night, stating she was bewitched. The old slave and Coletta quietly practiced their voodoo in their cottage to help the Countess, but nothing helped. That night, she felt the presence of someone in the room, but she was unable to wake up to find out whether or not anyone was there. Sleep was not her friend and would not relinquish her to the land of the awake just yet.
Her dreams were always the same themes. Rage, horror, destruction, death, or evil just to name a few. They played in no chronological order, specific time, or place. They were just a barrage of attacks. Her dreams were like watching a silent movie in black and white on an old reel-to-reel projector that would constantly jump. Often, she felt a wave of nausea upon waking from one of these dreams.
After sunset, the torment that held her would finally loosen its talons and release her. She sat up with a start, and the bed was soaked with her sweat. The sheet was pulled off the mattress, pillows were thrown about the room, and the light on the nightstand was smashed. She sat up, her chest heaving and throat rasping for air. She could never remember being more frightened in her life. Those images had been so awful.
“Where did they come from,” she asked aloud.
There was a stirring over in the corner. It was still very dark, but the corner had a darkness about it that was darker than dark. It was an evil, pitch black, and it had stirred in response to her question and then stopped. She was afraid to provoke it but needed answers. Surely, these horrible things had not been in her dreams because of her. Someone else must have put them there.
“Did you have anything to do with my dreams, last night?” she asked out loud. The dark corner shifted a bit.
“Those were horrible things. Why would you show me that?” she asked. Again, the corner moved, but no answer came from it.
“Why won’t you answer me?” This time, nothing came from the corner. “Show yourself!” she demanded.
It did as she demanded and jumped out from the corner and crouched low to the floor. It then leapt several times across the room like a frog. When it stopped, it half-turned and looked at her with a large eye before jumping from across the room onto the end of her bed. The Countess screamed a blood-curdling scream that woke up the whole house.
Chapter Five
The Count was the first one down the stairs, scooped it off her bed, and held it behind him. It struggled to get to her, grunting like a wild animal. Its arms and legs were flailing around him and reaching
toward the Countess.
“I see you’ve met Lizzy,” he smiled.
“Lizzy?” she said confused. “It has a name?”
“Yes. Lizzy was here when we found this house. Instead of kicking her out, we decided to keep her here and acquaint her with the finer things in life. Which you see hasn’t worked out so well,” he mused.
The thing was actually an eight-year-old child, but she was so filthy and dressed in rags, she looked like an animal.
“Lordy, Lordy. Where is that child? I know it be her. Only she can cause a ruckus like this,” cried the older slave. Coletta followed her in with towels, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.
“Look at you!” she scolded. “I knew it! Come on, now. Bath time,” the old slave said and swatted Lizzy on the butt. Lizzy ran to the stairs but stopped at the bottom to turn and look at the Countess. She gave her an evil, knowing look then skipped up the steps as happy as a clam. That look sent chills up the spine of the Countess.
“Here. Drink some of this. You’ll feel better,” the Count was saying. She took the wine glass from him and gulped down the wine. He refilled her glass. This time, she sipped it.
“She is much like you and I,” he explained. “She sleeps all day, rises at sunset, and gets bathed and dressed for the wealth this house holds. That’s where I’m afraid the similarities end. She then disappears all night, won’t attend our functions—like you saw the other night—and can’t be found or followed. She then shows up looking like a wild animal that’s been living in filth, smells like she’s been digging and rolling around in garbage, and is just a mess; however, she is a child at heart, is fickle, and likes to play. My guess is that she didn’t mean to scare you but was just playing with you.”
“Playing with me?” she screamed. “She scared the hell out of me! It didn’t help that I was having nightmares right before I woke up, but then I woke up to this animal jumping around. I think she meant to scare me,” she insisted.