The Oldest Living Vampire In Love (The Oldest Living Vampire Saga Book 3)

by Joseph Duncan

  I shook my head. “Curious... I sense a large animal in the wilderness ahead, a creature I’ve never encountered before.” I lowered my hands, looked at Ilio grimly. “I don’t like this. I think there may be more blood drinkers up there. Not just the one we’ve been chasing.”

  “What do we do?”

  I stroked my beard thoughtfully. “To be honest, I would like to see them. There is much we do not know about our kind. I doubt if any of them can harm me, but you are not so resilient.”

  “Don’t order me back to the village, Thest!” Ilio objected. “You shelter me too much!”

  I shushed him, peering into the silent woods.

  I stood indecisively, stroking the whiskers on my chin. I was terribly excited, but my excitement warred with wariness, and even a smidgeon of fear. Not fear for myself. If these vampires knew the trick of killing one such as myself, then I would fly happily to join my lost loved ones in the Ghost World. No, I feared for Ilio, and for my Tanti tribesmen. We were so near to the village. What if these T’sukuru decided to make war on my Tanti brethren? How could I possibly protect everyone, besieged by multiple foes?

  I scanned the dark ridge again with my vampire senses. Again, I felt that there was more than one being lying in wait for us there, but I couldn’t pin any of them down. My suspicion was little more than an intuitive thing.

  I did not know their numbers. I did not know their strength. And might they not have strange talents as well, like Ilio? Ilio could learn things from the blood of his mortal victims, an ability I did not share. What might these mysterious blood drinkers be able to do? Yet, I could not retreat now. They might think it a sign of weakness, and pursue us back to the Tanti village.

  I cursed my own foolishness.

  “There is nothing to do but go forward,” I murmured to Ilio. “Stay close to me, and be on your guard.”

  Ilio nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

  We started up the ridge.

  7

  The attack came from multiple directions, sudden and shocking in its ferocity. There was nothing we could do but strive to defend ourselves as each new challenger threw himself at us.

  We were halfway up the ridge when our enemies sprung their trap. Ilio and I were creeping as silently as we could through the treetops, alert to any sign of movement. The forest was dead silent. All I could hear was the distant chuckle of the river, and the intermittent plop of snow falling from overburdened branches.

  I heard a rapid rustling sound and caught a blur of movement from the corner of my eye. A moment later, a pale form tackled Ilio and carried him to the forest floor below.

  “Ilio!” I cried out, and I threw myself from the tree limb on which I was perched.

  Ilio and his attacker struck the ground with terrible force, but the boy wriggled from the grasp of his gangly opponent even as I fell earthward in pursuit. Ilio scrambled back and then flung himself to his feet, then shifted to higher ground so quickly he seemed to melt in one spot and reappear in the other.

  I was impressed. The man-child was fast!

  I hit the ground in a crouch and was about to spring at my son’s attacker when I was struck from behind by something large and powerful and shaggy.

  I rolled down the slope, wrestling with my opponent. Long yellow fangs snapped in my face as my attacker loosed a stream of blood-freezing snarls.

  A wolf--!

  But this was no ordinary canine. It was too strong!

  I hooked my fingers into its bushy pelt and tried to fling the creature away from me, but it resisted, driving forward, jaws snapping.

  Its body was dense with muscle. Its teeth clacked shut just a hair’s breadth from my cheek, and that was when I noticed the chill of its flesh and realized why the animal was so powerful.

  It was T’sukuru!

  For a moment, I was paralyzed by surprise. I had never imagined an animal might be changed in the same manner that I had been transformed, but I could think of no reason why it could not be done. Someone had trained this beast, and then infected it with the living blood!

  The wolf dug its paws into the wet soil and drove its snapping muzzle closer to my face. Its fangs sliced into the skin of my cheek.

  Roaring in pain and rage, I heaved the animal upwards. It might be strong, but it had no fingers to anchor itself to the ground. It took sudden flight, crashing through the canopy of the forest overhead with a yelp.

  I jumped to my feet and touched my hand to my face, but the living blood was already stitching the wound back together.

  Where was Ilio?

  Up the slope, Ilio and the thin blood drinker were dancing together, hand in hand. His opponent was a slim blond-headed male dressed in fur leggings and boots. The boy’s foe was a little taller, a little more muscular, but they seemed equally matched in strength. Neither was able to overpower the other.

  Ilio twisted to the right, his teeth gritted. His opponent jerked Ilio to the left. Their muscles writhed beneath their pale flesh as they tried in vain to throw one another off their feet.

  I took a single step toward him, intending to jump into the fray—

  And was struck again.

  The blow was devastating. It took me off my feet and sent me spinning through the air. My body collided with the trunk of an oak tree hard enough to fissure my flesh. A multitude of zigzagging cracks opened on my back and across my ribcage where my body had plowed into the tree.

  I fell to the ground, twitching in pain. Snow plopped down around me. Some of it landed on my head, obscuring my vision. The living blood repaired my injuries again, and I started to rise, clutching my aching ribs. I shook the snow from my head and turned to face my opponent.

  The blood drinker who had attacked me from behind was a giant. Two heads taller than me, at least, and half again as broad. He was bald, with flat features and a wide fanged mouth. Full lips. Flaring nostrils. Eyes like two black pebbles.

  As I rose unsteadily to my feet, he cocked an enormous hammer back over his shoulder, preparing to bludgeon me again.

  It was a massive weapon: a thick wooden club with an enormous stone head lashed to the end of it. It would crush my skull like an egg if it connected.

  I saw it coming, though, and pushed down with all my might.

  I propelled myself into the treetop, that big hammer whistling past below me. It struck the trunk of the oak tree with a resounding crack, and a great spray of bark and splinters went flying in all directions.

  A spear came whistling toward me, even as I landed in the tree branches, and I could do naught but sling myself earthward again to get out of the way of the projectile.

  On the way down, the gargantuan caught me in the hip with his hammer.

  The blow sent me flying up the hill past Ilio and his opponent. I hit the ground rolling, then jumped back to my feet, snarling.

  I looked down, watched the fissures in my flesh fade away.

  I was starting to get angry.

  I flashed down the hill and caught ahold of the blood drinker who was wrestling with Ilio. Jerking the two of them apart, I lifted the skinny fiend over my head and flung him down the hill at his partner.

  They crashed together cataclysmically, went rolling down the slope in a tangle of limbs.

  Another spear came whistling out of the dark. I caught it in mid-flight and sent it back. The vampire who had thrown it let out a cry, gawping down at the shaft protruding from his chest. It didn’t kill him. He was too powerful for that, but judging by his howl, it did not sound like it felt very pleasant either. He mewled and tried to pull the lance out, but the spear was stuck in the tree behind him and he didn’t have the sense to simply walk forward and unimpale himself.

  I heard a strange clomping sound behind me and spun around to meet my next foe, but the creature pelting down the ridge toward me was so bizarre that, for a moment, I was too distracted trying to figure out what it was to mount any kind of defense.

  It ran on four legs, and was nearly as tall at the
shoulder as I, with a muscular, barrel-shaped body and two heads, one elongated and animalistic, with a great tossing mane of black hair, the other human… female to be exact.

  As I stared at it, trying to figure out what the strange hybrid thing was, it struck Ilio and I with terrific force, knocking us into opposite directions.

  I collided with a tree. Ilio went rolling down the slope.

  The creature reared over me, making a high-pitched wailing sound. I ducked, trying to avoid its flailing hooves. It landed on all fours, and then the human half of it fell off —or rather, leapt off. It was no human-animal hybrid, of course, but a woman riding a beast. A sight I had never beheld.

  The woman, flesh as dark and glossy as the beast she rode upon, came around the animal’s neck as sinuously as a snake. She drew a knife from her belt as she straddled my sprawled body, then grabbed me by the hair and thrust the blade against my throat.

  “Surrender, stranger, or we will kill your little pet,” she hissed, speaking the Tanti tongue.

  I glanced down the hill and saw Ilio struggling in the grip of the gargantuan. The giant blood drinker had my son in a headlock, was dragging the boy up the hill with him. The skinny blood drinker followed, crawling on all fours.

  As they drew near, the one who’d been pierced through with the spear stepped out of the bushes, fussing with the hole in his sternum. It was closing up, healing, but slowly.

  There were four of them… but was that all? How many more were lurking in the shadows? I tried to decide if I could free Ilio before the giant blood drinker could do him harm. They were drawing nearer. If I could fling this female off me, fly down the hill to where the two of them struggled…

  The female sensed the workings of my mind and pressed her flint blade deeper into my flesh. “One word from me, and Bhorg will tear the little one’s head off,” she warned, eyes flashing. She was grinning, teeth bright and sharp, eager for me to press her to further violence.

  “No, no, don’t harm him!” I said quickly.

  “Father--!” Ilio yelped, and I squeezed my eyes shut in defeat.

  The female looked at Ilio, surprised, then returned her gaze to me. “Father?” she echoed, and a menacing little laugh slipped from her sensuous mouth. Her eyes searched my face, her thighs clasped around my hips, and then she growled, “Surrender to me, beautiful one. Surrender and I will let him live.”

  The words shattered the last of my resistance. I recalled the dream I’d had the night that Ilio was wed. The feminine presence I had sensed at the lake. The way our souls had briefly intertwined, and I found my body responding to her, just as it had that night. Helplessly. Against my will.

  This was the siren who had called out to me in my dreams. Of that, I had no doubt.

  The female blood drinker felt the stirring of my loins and laughed at me in contempt. If I could blush, I would have.

  “Bhorg…” she called, eyeing me with terrible amusement. Ilio’s destruction trembled on her tongue.

  At her call, the giant tightened his grasp upon Ilio’s head. His arms were thick with muscle. I had no doubt that he could tear the boy’s head from his shoulders.

  Ilio grunted, and I heard a crackling sound. The flesh of the boy’s neck began to fissure.

  “No! Ancestors, no! Please!” I pleaded with her. “Please, don’t hurt the boy! He is my son!”

  “Then submit to me!” the female blood drinker hissed, looming over me. She pressed her knife to my throat, squeezing her thighs around my waist. “Swear yourself to my service, and I will set your child free.”

  I nodded, the knife digging into the flesh beneath my chin, and she leapt to her feet in exultation.

  “You are my slave now!” she proclaimed, then, pointing to the ground beneath her feet: “On your knees, dog!”

  I hesitated, then moved to all fours in front of her, my head hanging. Laughter rang out from the woman’s male companions.

  “Let the boy go, Bhorg,” my vanquisher commanded.

  Ilio rushed to my side, kneeled down beside me. “Father, do not do this! Rise up! Fight!”

  “I gave my word,” I said to the boy.

  “No!”

  “Go home, little one,” the female blood drinker crowed. “Your father has traded his freedom for your life. Do not let his sacrifice be in vain.”

  Ilio pressed his forehead to my temple. “No, Thest! No!”

  “Go, Ilio, return to your wife and children. Love them and protect them with all of your strength. Tell the Tanti what has transpired here tonight.” I peered up at him, tried to smile encouragingly. “Do not act so overwrought, boy. I am defeated, but these blood drinkers cannot end my life. I have flung myself from mountaintops and lived. I will return. Have no doubt of it.”

  “No—!”

  I grabbed the boy by the shoulders and pulled him into my arms. Hugging him to my chest, I bent my lips to his ear. “Tell the Tanti they must flee from these lands,” I whispered in Denghoi, praying the T’sukuru could not understand. “Make certain that they do it, Ilio.”

  The female stepped toward me, lips curling back from her teeth, and I pushed him away from me.

  “Go, boy!” I said sternly, and the lad rose to his feet. He hesitated, shot a look of complete and utter hatred at the woman standing over me, and then he turned and pelted quickly down the wooded ridge.

  “What did you say to him?” she demanded, watching the boy flee.

  “Only that I love him,” I said. I had returned to my hands and knees.

  She looked down at me, arching an eyebrow, but did not challenge my lie.

  One of the male blood drinkers spoke in an unfamiliar language. The trio of men walked past me, headed up the ridge. Each glanced at me as they passed: the giant with amusement, the little one with curiosity, the one I had speared with disdain. I remained on all fours, staring down at my hands, while the female blood drinker walked to her mount and returned. A thick braided rope was placed overtop my head. The woman cinched it around my throat and then gave my leash a tug.

  “Up!” she said in Tanti. “On your feet, beautiful one. The night wanes. We return to camp.”

  I stood, pulling my hair from the tightly cinched rope, and she leapt nimbly to the back of the great ebon beast. She clicked her tongue against the side of her cheek and the vampire wolf came trotting from the underbrush.

  “Vehnfear,” she called to the animal. “Wuhat lot!”

  The shaggy gray canine glowered at me as it limped by, its black upper lip curling back from its fangs, then it tossed its head and went trotting up the slope, its tail held arrogantly erect.

  The female blood drinker gave my leash another tug. “Come, slave,” she said, and with a gesture of her thighs, the beast she rode upon turned around on the path and started up the ridge after the rest.

  Zenzele, My Captor

  1

  With Ilio out of harm’s way, I felt more sure of myself. I allowed the female blood drinker to lead me up the forested ridge, observing the woman discretely as we travelled.

  She was a comely creature, my captor, small of stature, with a lithe and muscular body. She had small breasts, a narrow waist, but full hips and powerful thighs, which I found quite sensual. I had always been attracted to voluptuous women when I was a mortal man (and such things were all consuming) and the sight of her body, full hips rocking on the back of her powerful beast, rekindled desires I had thought long gone to ash.

  The color of her skin intrigued me. It was dark, almost black, and lustrous like obsidian, which is a glasslike igneous rock that was used to make cutting tools in those days. Humans with very dark skin often take on that glossy black appearance when they are made into vampires, in stark contrast to mortals with more lightly colored flesh, who unerringly turn the color of sun-bleached bone.

  It was the first time I had ever seen such a dark-skinned immortal, and I imagined how she must look in the moonlight, limned in its quicksilver glow.

  She glanced in my direction as
if she felt my eyes on her.

  “What is your name?” she demanded.

  She had a round childlike face, with full lips, a broad nose and large expressive eyes. Her hair, like Ilio’s, was black and styled into braided coils, swept back from her brow like the plumage of some exotic bird.

  When I did not answer, her nostrils flared and she gave the rope around my neck a sharp yank.

  “Answer!” she snapped. “Or would you prefer I call you slave?”

  I stumbled forward a little at her tug. For such a petite creature she was surprisingly strong!

  “Thest,” I croaked. I wriggled my fingers beneath my leash, trying to loosen it.

  She looked amused. “So, you are the blood god who destroyed the Oombai.” She shrugged when I met her eyes, surprised that she knew my name. “Do not think me impressed, Thest. Those craven fools had long lost any good sense they might once have possessed. And they had even less honor, if that is imaginable. You should have seen the way they groveled at my feet. How they lapped my spittle from the dirt. They would fight over it like dogs!” And then she laughed, her eyes flashing with contempt.

  “And might you be the blood drinker Zenzele?” I asked. My lover Aioa had described one such creature when I was a guest of the Oombai.

  Their chieftain is a female, Aioa had said, with skin like volcanic glass. She is very beautiful, but cruel and full of spite.

  “The Goddess Zenzele!” my new mistress corrected, holding her back very straight.

  “The goddess of death,” I said, echoing my dead lover’s words.

  My beautiful captor did not reply. She merely chuckled, looking away to the north.

  I wondered what she would say if I told her that I’d dreamed of her, If I told her of that night at the lake, when it seemed that our spirits had intertwined. I was certain this woman was the seductress of my dreams, though how I had dreamed of her I still cannot explain.

  The words trembled on the tip of my tongue: I have dreamed of you. But I knew she would only make light of them.