Resurrection_Part One of the Macauley Vampire Trilogy

by Rebecca Norinne

  Listening at the door, I didn’t hear anyone milling about outside the room so I wrapped the blanket around my body and went in search of something to eat. Stepping into the kitchen, I was a bit light-headed and woozy. Opening the fridge, I went in search of something substantial to replace the nutrients I’d lost the night before. I laughed nervously at the idea of planning my meals around what effectively amounted to William’s meal.

  Ensconced in the great room with a bowl of yogurt, strawberries, and granola, I grabbed my iPhone from my purse and settled in to check my voicemail and email. Among the 15 messages I’d received, there was a missed call from Heather and a follow-up email a couple of hours later asking that I let everyone know how I was doing. For obvious reasons I needed to be careful about what I revealed to my friend about the sudden and dramatic turn my life had taken. For one, if I told her I’d fallen in love, Heather would think I’d gone insane and demand I come home immediately for a full psychiatric evaluation. Secondly, I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone William was a vampire. I’d seen enough movies and read enough books to know that trust and secrecy were the most highly valued traits amongst his kind when it came to dealing with humans. Of course, we hadn’t had much time to discuss the differences between fact and fiction where vampire lore was concerned, so I’d need to make sure we spent some later tonight discussing the ins and outs of our new life together. I wondered if he had a Vampires for Dummy stashed away in his impressive library somewhere.

  I jotted off a quick note to let Heather know things were going well and that I’d met a lovely, rich Irishman who was entertaining me at his family’s ancestral estate. I signed off by saying I’d be in touch in a couple of days. Not wanting to reveal too much, but not wanting to leave my best friend hanging—after all, I would have expected details from Heather if she were in a similar situation—I snapped a quick photo and attached it to the message. Because of the time difference, I wouldn’t hear back from Heather for several hours so I powered down my device and put it back in my purse before donning yesterday’s clothes.

  As I was zipping up my boots, a faint knock sounded at the door. Remembering I wasn’t entirely alone in the castle while William ... Rested? Slept? Dozed? ... I opened it to find Seamus standing there with two mugs of tea.

  “I took the liberty of making you some,” he said nodding to the cup in his hand. “I added cream and sugar; I hope that’s okay.”

  I clasped the mug in my cold hands and inhaled the deep, rich scent of Earl Grey.

  Heaven.

  “Thank you Seamus. It’s my favorite.”

  I stepped back, gesturing for him to enter. He looked around uncomfortably, but stepped inside despite his obvious discomfort at being alone with me.

  “You’re not supposed to put cream and sugar in Earl Grey, so how’d you know? I don’t get the impression you deviate much from standard convention.”

  He notched his eyebrow. “I run a vampire’s household, Olivia. I’d say I do just fine with deviating from the norm.”

  I raised my mug in salute. “Touché.”

  I walked to the couch and sat down, indicating Seamus should join me. Since he was the only person I had to talk to, I wanted to pick his brain as much as was polite, but I didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. It was a trick scenario to navigate, that’s for sure. Instead of joining me on the sofa, he settled into in a club chair opposite me and set his cup and saucer down on the table between of us.

  Clearing his throat, he looked around the room and then addressed me. “I’m to show you to your room.”

  “Thank you, that’d be lovely.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Seamus crossed his right leg over the left and raised his hands to a steeple under his chin. “Pardon me for asking, but how long do you intend to stay with us, Ms. Donnelly?”

  I could hear the edge to his question, his voice saying everything his words didn’t. Setting my own cup down and mimicking his body language, I decided the best way to deal with Seamus was to be honest and forthright. He was William’s friend. In and of itself, that was enough to be interested in my intentions toward William. When you added in the fact that William was a man with deadly secrets and Seamus was part of a small group who had been brought in to manage William’s life, interest turning to concern wasn’t entirely unexpected. Still, I wondered if he’d been so rude to Elizabeth or any of William’s other women or if it was just me who gave him cause for concern.

  “Please, call me Olivia,” I smiled in an attempt to set him at ease. “I hadn’t considered a specific length of time. Obviously my luggage is back at the hotel so I’ll need to pick it up. I’d told William last night I’m his for as long as he wants me. You’d have to ask him how long he intends to have me stay.” I hadn’t meant to sound snide, but I had as much insight into the duration of my stay as Seamus did. Hell, probably less.

  Taking a sip of his tea, he asked, “And was this before or after he made love to you?”

  Taken aback at his brusqueness and the overtly intimate nature of the question, I was at a momentary loss for words, which made my response less than eloquent once I did manage to reply. “Before. Not that it’s any of your business, but I promised him I’d stay with him before.”

  Smiling as if satisfied at my answer, he said, “Good. I’m very glad to hear that.”

  “And why is that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  He glanced around the room, refusing to meet my eyes, as he composed his thoughts. “When William first heard your voice, something in him snapped. He wouldn’t discuss it, but there was a restlessness in him, like a caged lion desperate to get out and run free.” He took another sip of his cooling tea. “And when he saw your picture it was like a ghost walked into the room. I don’t know if you’re actually the reincarnation of his wife, but I know William believes with every fiber of his being that you are … and because of that he’s vulnerable. I don’t like it when he’s vulnerable.”

  He leveled a stern glare at me lest I miss his meaning. I didn’t.

  “I understand and respect that. You care for him, I can tell. I care for him too.”

  Seamus’s glare went from stern to disbelieving and before he could argue against my point, I forged on.

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me or why it’s happening now, but I tell you on my mother’s grave I know him. I dreamed of him before I ever saw him or heard him speak, and in my dream it was his voice. When I met him last night, it was like a switch had flipped and I knew he was the other half of me. I remembered him, Seamus, and I remembered the woman I had been; I remembered being Ceara. I loved William once, a very long time ago, and I owe it to both of us to figure out if we can recapture that now.”

  I hoped he could understand my feelings. It would be so much easier to have someone—another human—who I could talk with and who understood the pressures that were inherent in a relationship shrouded in secrets, mystery, and lies.

  “He told me once about what happened to Ceara. While he tries to live like a normal man, he carries the horror with him every day as a reminder of the monster he believes he is.”

  “I don’t think he’s a monster.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Olivia,” he answered emphatically, catching me off guard.

  “Don’t ever underestimate him, and always remember what he truly is. William is a vampire—not a mortal man—and he can be very dangerous if the situation calls for it.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  He sighed. “No, you’re probably right. At least, not as long as you’re here willingly.” When I blanched at this bold admission, he smiled ruefully. “Tell me, what do you think he would have done if you hadn’t been quite so obliging? Did he tell you he had plans to carry you here kicking and screaming if necessary?”

  “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working. Besides, he already told me this himself.”

  “He did, did he? Interesting.�
� He rubbed his whiskers for a few moments, deep in thought. “I’m surprised at that, but then, everything about this is surprising, is it not?” The sarcasm in his voice was thick as molasses.

  “Why do I get the impression you’re not exactly happy I’m here?”

  “Please don’t take it personally,” he answered. “Like I said, I don’t like to see William vulnerable and right now he is. Since it seems he was in an uncharacteristically chatty mood last night, did he also tell you about his enemies?” He raised a sardonic eyebrow at me, knowing full well I didn’t have a clue about that facet of William’s life.

  “Ah, I see.”

  “What do you see, Seamus?”

  He didn’t answer my question; instead he asked another of his own. “In that case, how much do you really know about the situation you’ve walked into?”

  I had to admit there was a lot about William I didn’t know. Probably too much.

  While we had talked late into the night about our old life and my life as it was today, during our conversation I’d had the impression William was avoiding talking about himself; that is, the vampire. He was happy to answer my questions about the time before he’d been turned; in fact, he seemed to relish the retelling of those stories, but he’d been somewhat when I’d asked about how his life had progressed immediately thereafter. It pained me to admit it to Seamus, but that was information I needed to know.

  “We didn’t get to that.”

  “No, I imagine you didn’t.” He smirked, dropping his eyes to the pile of pillows in front of the banked fire and I understood his meaning all too well.

  My face turned scarlet and my ears began to ring, a physical manifestation of embarrassment I’d had since I was in third grade. That was the year I’d peed my pants in the middle of class because the teacher wouldn’t let me get up. As the kids had laughed and pointed, I’d panicked and that was how my body had reacted. It had been with me ever since.

  “What I meant to say was we didn’t talk about him much last night. We talked about our life together before ... before he changed ... and then we talked about my life today and my time with my parents in San Francisco.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “How nice for you both. I’m sure it was a very heartwarming discussion.” His face went hard. “I suggest you get him to tell you all about himself as soon as possible so you can decide if you still want to be here. His real self, Olivia, not this human facade he puts on for show.”

  “I planned to talk to him tonight. But tell me, Seamus, knowing that I left with him, even knowing what he is, do you really think I’m going to leave him now?”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would. Nor do I suppose you actually could. Now that he’s claimed you don’t expect him to give you up without a fight. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.” He set his now-empty cup on the table and rose. “But enough of all this beating around the bush on my part. I’m sure William will share everything with you when he wakes and you can decide for yourself what you’re going to do. In the meantime, I should show you to your chamber.”

  Trying my damnedest to hold my anger at bay, I followed Seamus up a mahogany staircase lined with portraits that dated back hundreds of years. Sprinkled among them were images of William throughout the ages, dressed to represent the era in which the portrait had been made. As the years passed, his eyes became more and more radiant. The final painting—dated 1969 on the plaque that was affixed to its frame—featured William dressed in a three-piece suit and his eyes were the piercing, electric I’d seen staring back at me last night in the moments right before his fangs had pierced my skin.

  “What’s with the eyes?”

  “That’s one of the things you should talk to him about. His secrets aren’t mine to share. But tell me, what do you think of this one?” He gestured to a painting that was at least 6 feet tall and was hung in pride of place at the top of the landing.

  I gasped.

  “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Yes, I thought so too when I saw you last night.”

  I approached the portrait, stunned. With the exception of clothing, the woman was the spitting image of me, right down to that one lone freckle on my bottom lip. At the bottom right there was a date and signature: Macauley 1690. Surely William hadn’t painted this? Then again, if he hadn’t, why would he have signed it?

  “William?” I asked, gesturing toward the signature.

  “Who else could have captured your likeness in such a way? Yours is the face that has haunted him since the moment he first became immortal. I’m sure he knows every line, every freckle, and every expression of that face. It’s what he dreams of when he sleeps, Olivia.”

  I started to ask him how he knew all this, but he held up his hand.

  “I don’t tell you this to scare you, but to make sure you fully understand what’s at stake here. This is not some dalliance you can walk away from. You are the love of his entire existence.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t know if I was her,” I challenged, pointing to the painting hanging above.

  “Given the world I inhabit, and all that I’ve seen, I’ve quit taking things at face value. Between this portrait, William’s belief, and your memories, there’s a very good chance it’s the truth.”

  “Then why have you challenged me?”

  “Because I wanted to be sure you believe it too.” He moved behind me to open a door to our right. “Here we are. Your suite.”

  Given the sophisticated beauty I’d been surrounded by since entering the castle, I shouldn’t have been surprised at how utterly resplendent my room was. I’d been surrounded by wealth my entire life and this room made me feel like a princess in a fairy tale. The Donnelly fortune was a relatively new one and it bought bright, shiny new things. William’s money was old and so were its physical embodiments.

  Against the far back wall was a four-poster mahogany bed covered in sumptuous blue velvet linens and more pillows than any one person would need in a lifetime. A matching armoire stood nearby, flanked by a mirror that was taller than me. In between the silk-draped windows was a small chest of drawers topped by a large cut crystal vase—Waterford, I assumed—and it was filled with white roses and lilies. At my feet was an impeccably preserved antique Aubboson rug.

  “Your things are in the armoire,” Seamus said, interrupting my catalogue of the room’s contents.

  “My things?”

  “Your luggage, your computer, everything from your room at The Shelbourne.”

  “But I didn’t bring it with me,” I answered, a trifle confused.

  “No, but William is a valued guest there and thus here are your things. They arrived just after breakfast.”

  I stood in stunned silence. I’d planned on moving my belongings today or tomorrow, so it’s not like I should have been angry, but it being done without consulting me left a bitter taste in my mouth. William had told me just last night that I was free to use any of his cars to drive back and pick up my things, but the presence of all of my stuff packed away neatly made me question the sincerity of that claim. Had he said it just to make me comfortable in the moment? Had Seamus acted on his behalf, not realizing the bargain William and I had made? Did it even matter?

  “If I wanted to go shopping today, where would be the best place to go?” I asked, turning to face Seamus, daring him to tell me I couldn’t. “Would I need to go back to Dublin?”

  “You could go back into Dublin, but Kilkenny is closer. Of course, the larger department stores won’t be there, but it should suffice for your immediate needs. Would you like me to have a car brought around for you?”

  I eyed him skeptically. “All I have to do is ask and one will be brought around?”

  “It’s no problem at all. William let me know you have free reign of the Saab, Volvo, or Land Rover. I can call for one of them if you’d like.”

  “Why those three?”

  “You don’t drive a manual, do you?
”

  “No, but how do you know that?” First the Earl Grey, now my driving capabilities. Seamus was turning out to be a tad creepy.

  As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, he said, “Olivia, it’s not what I know, but what William knows.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  He continued, as if exasperated at having to explain himself to me. “Apparently after the publication of your last book, you gave an interview in which you talked about a trip you took with your mother. I’m to understand the rental agency provided a vehicle with a manual transmission instead of the automatic you’d requested. You couldn’t drive it, and they had no nothing to exchange it for. Not being able to leave the parking lot, you hired a chauffeur for the remainder of your sojourn to drive you around instead. And thus William instructed the garage to make sure the vehicles with automatic transmissions were available for your use.”

  The day he’d just recounted came back to me and I was filled with a melancholy happiness as I recalled my mother and I sitting in the parking lot trying to figure out what to do. We must have sounded like two completely helpless females, which in any other circumstance we certainly were not. I laughed out loud. How silly we must have looked as we’d tried, at least 50 times, to start the car before admitting defeat and calling for a driver. How had William tracked down that article? The magazine had gone defunct a couple of years ago.

  Assured I had access to a vehicle and could leave anytime I wanted to—that there was nothing nefarious going on—I thanked Seamus but told him I wouldn’t need the car after all. “I think since my things are already here I’m going to take a long, hot bath, maybe explore the grounds, and get some work done.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then. There are plenty of towels and a few different robes to choose from in the bathroom. Please, make yourself at home.”

  Apparently, I had no choice.