Twice Bitten

by Aiden James

  To wake up and suddenly have immediate awareness of the endless stream of words within somebody else’s head can be extremely disturbing. At least it was for me today. And, to consider it’s just the opposite experience from when I blacked out, where an incredible calm and peaceful sea of blackness surrounded me.

  Surely, you’re wondering about my physical condition. I mean, am I pregnant yet? And, what about the incredible discomfort that racked my insides when the very first ovum of my life coursed down my left ovary and into my womb?

  I can tell you that both of these questions were among the last thoughts I considered before everything went blank. My fading awareness of my pain and surroundings was the only reason I didn’t scream to high heaven. It hurt like a mo-fo, and I hope to God I’m never subjected to anything like it again!

  Once Maria showed up at my bedside, in addition to the sudden assault from her worried thoughts for my welfare, I was surprised to find my body’s pain had vanished. Completely. It amazed me that I felt really good physically. I startled the poor girl when I jumped up and started getting dressed in the change of clothes she brought for me. The modest bedroom in the much smaller estate gave me pause to consider something truly had happened earlier this morning, and it wasn’t just a bad dream.

  Maria’s thoughts began to overwhelm me, and when I realized in horror that the mental confusion bombarding my mind came from her head, I excused myself from her presence and ran into the adjacent bathroom. Thankfully, she understood English when I told her that I’d be right back. Most of what came from her silent musings was in French.

  While washing my face in the sink, I began to recall the draining of my blood by Chanson. I pulled my hair back to take a look at my neck. Not surprised the wounds had already healed, the teardrops on my neck were slightly swollen still, providing further confirmation of what had happened to me in the hours just before dawn. More mental images from the event began to flood my awareness, and I could taste the blood being poured down my throat once more.

  That’s when incredible nausea came over me, forcing me to my knees as I retched for damn near twenty minutes.

  Can morning sickness occur this quickly? Or, was my churning stomach due to reliving the feeding of my blood back to me, as a mixture of human and vampire plasma?

  I did get that answer…but, not just yet.

  Once I had dressed, Maria led me to the northern wing of the estate, where Mercel waited. I had mixed feelings at seeing him without Racco around, but he assured me that I’d see Racco again at our new location. He refused to divulge where that would be.

  “I know this is not what you want to hear, Mademoiselle Ybarra, but I have my orders to follow,” he explained, his expression pained despite a caring smile. “Ask me anything other than that, and if I know the answer, I will tell you.”

  Well, he couldn’t answer my next question as to ‘when’ Racco would be coming to this new secret hideout—which I correctly assumed would be another castle. And, he must have learned the ability to cloak his thoughts, as I picked up nothing from him. Almost like the vampires’ empty mental slates I would encounter later on, this evening. I guess only warm-blooded humans transmit readable thoughts.

  Other details Mercel did know, and could tell me, were these: we would be boarding the plane around 3:00 p.m., and joining us would be more than one hundred vampires, still asleep in their coffins. This was as much for my continued protection as companionship, he advised. An additional cargo plane would also make the trip, carrying most of the heavier caskets and other treasured items already packed by Gustav’s servants.

  From what I gathered, the selected vampires included my friends among them. It lightened my heart after I received the disappointing news that Peter had already been forced to return to America. There was so much left unresolved, and I honestly wanted to speak with him to gauge where our relationship stood after last night. Can it be salvaged? I seriously doubt it, based on what I know of Peter and his sheltered upbringing. What he participated in this morning would likely haunt him for years to come, and I assume this is the reason he was not allowed to stay and speak with me before his trans-Atlantic flight.

  Unfortunately, this will remain something I will have to resolve at a later time. Perhaps when I’m allowed to visit my family in Virginia, I can hook up with him then to gain closure on the past and redefine our future. After all, he is the father of the child already growing inside me.

  My baby girl.

  This brings us to the present moment, nearly 10:00 p.m. We are speeding through India’s airspace toward the Himalayas, aboard Racco’s newest Leer jet. There was some debate about choosing a castle in Hungary, but it turned out Ralu has already seized the property. Gustav advised Chanson that this particular castle used to belong to our adversary before it was lost to the warriors of the Ottoman Empire long ago. Racco had since reclaimed and restored it to its highest glory, but Ralu has always considered it his rightful abode. Now he has it back.

  I know nothing of the estate we’re heading to, but after experiencing the prior wealth of my vampire protectors and their alchemist sponsor, I assume it will be grand. Perhaps a palace of some sort, in a Chinese/Indian sort of way?

  At least I’ll have something totally new to write about next time. Perhaps I’ll also have details concerning the birth of my little girl, which should take place five to seven months from now. Apparently, based on centuries past, this is the normal gestation for these children. And, they are nearly always females. There hasn’t been a male born with our birthmark in more than a thousand years.

  The only thing I’m waiting on now is to make sure the fetus doesn’t abort. If that happens, we will have to try this again, and the chances of success get slimmer with each attempt. The next seven days are critical. So says Chanson, who also volunteered to edit the final version of the manuscript you hold in your hands, dear reader. Needless to say, having to endure another Relance de sang could be very bad for all of us, human and vampire alike.

  Hopefully, by the time you read this the fetus will survive, and I’ll be nearing the end of the journey—my pregnancy. I can hardly wait to introduce the world to the latest blood princess. And I have a name already, one suggested by Gustav a few hours ago that has quickly grown on me. I like this name, but can’t share it. Not yet.

  Now, I have one last surprise to share before I bring this chronicle to a close. My vampire friends wanted to add one last element to ensure I didn’t get too bored or lonely in our new home. So, they brought someone else along. Someone I never believed I’d ever see again in this world. Someone who’s brilliant smile and big green eyes could rival many a vampire’s shimmering countenance while alive.

  This person entered the passenger cabin less than half an hour ago, dressed in a stunning coral Valentino cocktail dress and is sitting across from me, pressing me to finish.

  Tyreen.

  Tyreen the vampire—or I should say beautiful vampire. Still gorgeous and voluptuous, and already at home with ‘elitist’ vampire fashion!

  I have only one worry with her. Since she’s new to the undead world, where the nubile vamps are always hungry, how will she handle her bloodlust?

  And, the way she’s looking at me now….

  Wish me luck.

  The End

  The Vampires’ Birthright

  Prologue

  Hello again. Txema Ybarra here.

  It’s been a little while since my last update, but a long time in terms of what has happened in the world. Just seven months since my life with the vampires began, much has taken place within my own personal corner of existence—events that are directly tied to the global changes that have affected everyone by now. Life inside and outside my space has evolved into something I never would’ve recognized last November when my adventure into the realm of vampires began. Back then, I had just started my freshman year at the University of Tennessee.

  It was such a simpler time that now seems like eons ago. The initial
struggle to contain the world’s most violent vampires has since turned into a war for survival…for everyone—human and undead alike.

  For those who have followed my story, I hope to relate a lucid narrative of how things have been for me since I wrote the journal that later was published as “The Vampires’ Last Lover.” Chanson de I’Eternelle has again assisted me in editing the final version of what you have before you.

  Chanson and my other ‘protectors’ still keep a close eye on me and my activities, especially when I flirt too long with danger. However, much of the European Nation of vampires prefer their emotional distance from me, although several vampires who were once strangers have become good friends. Unfortunately, most civilized vampires view me as a liability. They have been especially cool towards me since my daughter’s conception led to the destruction of the luxurious castles and lavish lifestyles they once enjoyed. Ralu Izcacus’s growing army has relentlessly pursued the downfall of an elitist society that held sway for thousands of years until recently, and most members of the undead hold me entirely to blame.

  I’m thankful that Chanson’s affection for me has not diminished in any way, and she continues to be my closest confidante. She also shares that same devotion for my little girl, my beautiful and precious princess.

  The last time I wrote, I had just conceived. You may remember that the gestation period runs a few months shorter for children born from the sacred ceremony called Relance de sang. But before I revisit key details surrounding the ceremony’s aftermath, I must first fulfill a promise I made at the end of my original update and reveal my daughter’s name...a name suggested by Gustav Domnul-delael, king of the European vampires.

  My daughter’s name is Alaia. ‘A-lee-yah’ is how one should pronounce it, which I’m sure is easier to handle than the pronunciation for my name, Txema (Chee-ma). Alaia is a beautiful Basque name that means ‘joyful’. Gustav advised she’d bring joy to my world despite the shit storm that has befallen us all, after Ralu’s minions gained the powerful foothold they have yet to relinquish in Europe and throughout North and South America. Every day there is death and sadness reported in the wake of Ralu Izcacus’s advancing armies spreading across the earth. However, despite such bleak news, Gustav has called my daughter a ‘savior’. One whose destiny is supposed to change the course of history and bridge the hostile gap between the living and those who cannot die.

  My daughter’s ready smile and peaceful countenance seem to support Gustav’s view. Not to mention what appear to be advanced cognitive abilities since her birth a month ago. Gustav is right…the name does fit her. Alaia Ybarra Worley. Peter would be so proud, if only he could be near her…to watch her grow up.

  But I’m getting way ahead of myself. Perhaps the best place to start with this tale is to begin from where I last left off. Instead of relating a chronicle hour-to-hour and day-to-day in a two-week span, this time the events are spread out for these past seven months. I intend mostly to touch upon events that have had the greatest impact upon me during this timeframe. Keeping that fact in mind should enable you, dear reader, to follow along closely and enjoy one hell of a ride.

  Buckle up.

  Chapter 1

  I’ll never forget the way the moon looked through my window seat on Racco de Saint Germain’s private jet as we crossed into China’s airspace from India. A full moon illuminated the thick cloudbank below and made me forget about the vast depth of outer space behind it, as well as my ever-growing sadness for moving farther away from my American homeland. At least it did until my attention was pulled away from the view.

  “I wonder what it’s like to fly through the air at this altitude without manmade wings.”

  Tyreen Davenport grinned mischievously as she said this, her nubile fangs peering through her voluptuous lips. My beautiful companion who once was my roommate at UT had been a vampire for only a week. Fortunately, the vampires Franz Blutliebhaber and Armando Iocura reached her in time to prevent her transformation into a ‘Chupacabra’ vamp after she was attacked by one of Ralu’s warriors in the now infamous Knoxville tragedy, where twenty-three UT students and six police officers died in November last year.

  Unlike the ‘Nosferatu Curse’ that many of Ralu’s victims endure, Tyreen can look forward to an eternity as one of the pretty vampires. Her gorgeous green eyes are now luminescent, and her flawless ebony skin will always be perfect. Never shall she endure the onset of aging or, for that matter, the ill effects of gravity. Her full bosom and the ‘bodacious butt’ the boys back in college drooled over will remain that way for centuries to come. And when my long dark brown hair begins to go gray, her flowing curls will remain jet-black—unless she becomes addicted to frequent hair color experiments like her new peers.

  “It would probably be cold as hell and take days to thaw me out.” I snickered to let her know I did understand her observation wasn’t in reference to me and my human limitations. Rather it referred to our older and more advanced vampire companions, who can soar through the air at incredible heights when necessary. “As for what it would be like for you, why don’t you ask Garvan?”

  “Hmmm…I would say the best way to describe it is exhilarating,” a young man’s voice observed from behind me. Tyreen looked beyond me, smiling coyly as I turned to face Garvan de sang. A four hundred year-old vampire from France, he looked like a typical European playboy that night, dressed in a white Armani suit and apricot silk shirt opened at the neck. Garvan’s fiery emerald eyes peered through shoulder-length blonde hair that fell forward as he served himself a champagne glass filled with fresh plasma—his preferred ‘Type O’ kept ready at room temperature. “Unless you forget about the speed…forgetting about that would be bad. Very bad. “

  “How so?” I wanted him to elaborate. I could tell Tyreen was even more curious than I.

  “Depending on how fast one travels, it’s possible to slip past the earth’s gravitational pull,” he explained, his expression playful and his normally rich aristocratic accent muted. “And then ‘poof’, you are no longer part of this world ever again.”

  “That would suck for anyone,” I said, while Tyreen’s hopeful smile faded.

  Meanwhile, Garvan’s own smile widened, revealing his gleaming fangs.

  “Yes, that’s a correct assessment.” He moved over to an empty seat next to Tyreen. “But, it’s far worse for a vampire. Imagine for a moment that you were like Tyreen or me, and can no longer easily die…. Can you picture how much fun this could become if all of us were shot out into the vast expanse of outer space?”

  “Are you suggesting we wouldn’t just turn into a block of ice out there, destined to orbit the earth until ‘Kingdom come’?” Tyreen’s sarcastic wit that I’ve always loved overrode the slight fear I sensed hovering just below the surface.

  “Well, I suppose whatever is organic within our vampire bodies would freeze,” interjected another male voice from behind us. The accent was almost genteel Spanish, as I suppose the rich plantation owners who occupied Haiti and Cuba after arriving from Portugal and Spain sounded several hundred years ago. “But no vampire likes to spin around anything—definitely not the earth—ever!”

  I turned further in my seat to face Armando. Like Garvan, he was also dressed like a young jet setter. Only he preferred a full black Hugo Boss suit with a burgundy silk shirt. My Spanish protector—and among my favorite immortals—is quite a looker, with long dark hair he keeps slicked back. If the stereotypical widow’s peak atop his forehead doesn’t betray his preternatural status as a blood drinker, his unearthly deep blue eyes and prominent fangs will remove all doubt in an instant.

  “You two sound ridiculous!”

  From the front of the plane, Raquel Meurtrier eyed us with playful contempt. I realized then that an impromptu ‘vampire meeting’ with Gustav must have officially ended. As my most diminutive and dainty vampire protector, Raquel was dressed in black tights and a long purple cardigan sweater that surprisingly worked well together. Especially with
her flowing crimson locks and intense violet eyes. The slight smirk on her face told me that she enjoyed my latest admiring nod. Unlike the other female vampires in my close circle of companions, Raquel doesn’t gravitate to the latest designer fashions. She prefers a wardrobe featuring elegance crossed with a loose thrown-together feel, and is the closest thing to Lady Gaga we’ll likely ever see in our exclusive society.

  “You sound more like a pair of real dumb-asses, in my opinion,” she said as she sauntered toward us, a more roguish grin tugging at the corners of her thin lips.

  “Perhaps ‘dumb-asses’ who never considered the combustion of their vampire bodies once this so called orbit brought them face to face with the sun,” added Chanson. She somehow joined our little group without me seeing her entrance into our area. Only her distinctive lilac scent alerted me to her presence. “And it would be a hell of a lot hotter and crueler without the ultraviolet protection from the earth’s atmosphere.”

  Dressed in a dark blue Armani suit similar to the blazer and skirt laid out for me the previous afternoon, she carried a laptop with her. Chanson sat down next to me, grimacing slightly. The look on her face said the meeting she and the others had attended, except for Tyreen, had involved some sort of battle…. A war of wills, perhaps? This sort of thing usually makes me quite uneasy. But, at the moment, the olfactory barrage from their collective presence was of worse concern. Even more than the chilled presence Chanson and Raquel brought with them, since neither one had fed that evening.