Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  I’m embarrassed because my behavior is obviously overly blatant and deeply inappropriate. My parents are ashamed of my unseemly flirting with Ramses, who’s a slightly older man, considering he’s twenty-six and I’m still seventeen. Father’s business associates also witnessed it, and they will think the same about me. What if they accuse my father of giving Ramses preferential treatment because of me? What if all of this harms his business?

  I’ve been so very foolish and thought only of myself. It’s pathetic, really, now that a mirror has been put in front of my face. With that, I simply can’t face Ramses or the others tomorrow when they come to our house again. Not tomorrow night. Maybe not even the next night. The tongue-lashing I received is much worse than just disappointing my father. I’m disappointed in myself.

  * * *

  Ramses Barnett, 1790

  Young, inexperienced girls are so easy to persuade. Their opinions aren’t firm, so they’re very easy to coax and sway in the direction I need them to go. Especially with the added benefit of reading their thoughts. Of knowing exactly what to do, when to do it, and how far to push them past where they’ve always been comfortable going before. With Miss Alea Dunn, I don’t even have to use my vampire powers to know what she’s thinking. It’s written all over her face, in the blush of her skin, and in the bat of her soft brown eyes. She wants me almost as much as I want her. Well, her blood, anyway. There’s no doubt I’ll enjoy her body and take her virginity first.

  Knowing she’s never been touched is more of a turn-on for me than I ever would’ve imagined. Being the first to show her everything would make me her master every bit as much as turning her would. The problem is, I don’t know if I can turn her. I don’t know if I can stop drinking her blood once I start. I’ve always lacked a measure of self-control when certain humans have been involved. But I’ve never experienced anything near the need I have to consume her—completely, utterly, thoroughly drain every last drop from her veins. It’s the only reason I keep returning to her family’s stuffy affairs.

  After the last gathering at the Dunn’s several days ago, Slade and I had the first significant fight we’ve had in decades. My brother knows me too well and can read me inside and out. He has always watched my mood swings closely. Even I have to admit he’s had cause to be troubled over my actions in the past. But I won’t admit that to him—ever. He’s the younger one, but he has had to be the voice of reason on more than one occasion. He had to be because I couldn’t.

  “Ramses, you are playing a dangerous game yet again. Stop this right now before you go too far. Once you’ve crossed that line, you know there’s no turning back. There is too much at stake, and I will not let you ruin this good thing we have here. If I have to, I’ll stop you myself.” Slade’s tone was all too familiar—he was at his wit’s end with me. He’d never threatened me before, but I had absolutely no doubt he meant exactly what he said.

  “Slade, I need you to trust me.”

  “You haven’t given me much reason to trust you. Your past record speaks for itself.”

  There may have been a couple of times during my vampiric life my craving became a full obsession that consumed me. I would’ve gone to the ends of the world and back just to satisfy that urge. That need. That yearning. It’s so deep inside me, it permeates every dead cell and fiber in my body and takes over any rational thinking I otherwise possess. Those…episodes…are far behind me now. That’s not what’s happening to me with this girl. It feels different.

  “I’m fine, Slade. Stop worrying so much.”

  “Your infatuation with this Dunn girl gives me plenty of cause to worry. I’ve seen the crazed look in your eye when you get back from the meetings at her house. I know that look far too well, and I know what comes afterward. End this tonight, Ramses.” He shoved me and knocked me a few steps backward to drive his point home. My brother’s strength has surpassed my own, both physically and mentally, through his focus and determination. He could use his telepathic power to force me to obey him if he wanted, but he was never that type of man, and his code of honor stayed with him through his change.

  It’s true, I cannot deny how often I think about the scent of her blood and how exquisite it would be to feast on her. Once I started, I know I wouldn’t be able to stop. I wouldn’t be able to get enough of her, until there was none of her left. Slade’s concern is that by killing her, I’ll fall into a depressive state, take my vengeance out on too many others, and then we’d be discovered.

  “I can’t just walk away from this, Slade. We’re making a fortune from Clarence Dunn, and there are more contracts to finalize,” I bellowed back at him.

  “Then I will finish it. You are not to go back to that house again. Or you will regret it.”

  But I have an amazing plan this time that will keep my mind on track.

  I am going back to that house.

  I will have every last drop of Alea’s blood.

  Slade will see my reasoning, the purpose of my plan.

  He left after our outburst, and I returned to my secret place, where my sweet Richelle waited for me. The first night, she was too worn out from our bedroom antics and slept all night. It wasn’t until the following day that she realized she was my permanent guest. Her initial reaction was pure disbelief. She thought I was joking, playing with her, only wanting to keep her as my sex slave. When she realized she belonged to me, intense fear and instant pleading for her release followed. After I’d left her alone for several hours, she was raging mad when I returned.

  Her rage only served to stoke the fires of my libido, and I made the most of it. I’m pleased to say I fucked her into submission. She feels safer now, back to the original thought that she’s simply my sex slave. She actually likes it because I take good care of her, so she’s accepted her fate. I haven’t changed her yet, though I have enjoyed tastes of her blood without her fully realizing what happened. She has questioned some of the puncture marks and playfully accused me of having a fetish for biting.

  She has no idea.

  But she soon will.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alea Dunn, June 1790

  I’ve done as Father said and stayed away from his work dinners and social events over the past month. It has killed me to know Ramses has been downstairs, but I couldn’t go down to see him. He has been so close, but he may as well have been across the ocean for all the good it has done me.

  I’ve watched through the window when no one was looking. They were all too busy with their drinks, food, and conversation to notice me anyway. I’ve been ordered to stay inside, like a little child ordered to play in my room and not bother the adults. Even if I were invited to join them now, I’d be much too embarrassed to show my face.

  But that doesn’t stop me from watching from the cover of darkness in my room. In the spare bedrooms upstairs. From any window that gives me a good view of Ramses. Sometimes I wish he’d see me, scale the wall outside, and whisk me away with him. But that is the wish of a child, of a young girl who still believes in fairy tales. Wishing for a fairy-tale ending is a luxury I can no longer afford.

  “They found another body?” I asked Mother when I picked up the newspaper from the table. The morning’s paper showed the fourth dead body was found within the last three weeks. “Is there a madman lose from an asylum somewhere?”

  She tried to hide her worried expression with her nonchalant tone. “People die every day for many different reasons, Alea. There’s no need to be so dramatic about it. Just because a body was found doesn’t mean someone killed them. They very well could’ve died a natural death.”

  “Mother, at some point you’ll have to accept the fact that I’m grown now. In a short few months, I’ll be eighteen. Stop shielding me from the world—I have to live in it.”

  Her eyes flew up to meet mine, and she really looked at me for what felt like the first time in a very long time. “I suppose you’re right, Alea. You are growing up, too fast for my taste, but it’s happening whether I like
it or not. The bodies of four girls have been found recently. What the papers aren’t printing is the manner in which their bodies were found. There must be a madman out there, with what’s been done to those poor souls.”

  I’d never heard Mother sound so frightened before. I could only imagine what they’d talked about while I wasn’t part of the adult conversation. Still, she was nervous and didn’t exactly want to discuss it. But I pushed, because I could tell she knew more than what she’d already said.

  “What does he do to them?” My voice came out as a whisper.

  She pursed her lips together, forming a thin line and further accentuating her worried expression. She hesitated for just a moment. It didn’t feel like she was trying to hide anything from me now. She just simply didn’t want to talk about it. “He mutilates them, Alea, in the most aberrant ways. It’s worse than what a madman would do. It’s like a mindless animal got to them. But an animal wouldn’t leave the rest of their bodies. Their throats were ripped out, but there was hardly any blood on them.”

  My responding gasp was loud and escaped before I could stop it. My hands flew over my mouth when I pictured their bodies, torn apart and lifeless. “Who could do such a thing?”

  “No one knows, Alea. Everyone is taking extra precautions when they go out at night now. I guess the only consolation is all the dead girls were prostitutes, so maybe he’s not targeting anyone else. But we can’t assume that’s the case. I just hope and pray they find this murderer soon so we can put this whole terrifying ordeal behind us.”

  I read the article in the paper while having breakfast, and I’ve never had a heavier heart. Those poor girls didn’t deserve to die like that. How frightened they must have been. How much pain they must have experienced at the killer’s hand. And the killer, what of him? What sort of madness flows through his veins and makes him want to do such vile things?

  “Alea, we have to go to the tailor’s shop today. Eat your food and get dressed. I’d like to be finished there as early as possible. It’s a short walk from here, and the weather is so nice, but I don’t want to be out anywhere close to dark.”

  The way she alternated between wringing her hands and wiping them on her dress told me more than I wanted to know. My stomach was on edge after reading the newspaper anyway, so I left my breakfast half-eaten and dressed as quickly as possible. Mother and I left the house, walking and chatting about nothing important. Anything that might keep our thoughts from straying too much.

  But it didn’t work.

  What Mother didn’t tell me, and what the newspaper didn’t mention, was how many family members were walking the sidewalks with panic-stricken expressions. They approached anyone they passed, showed drawings of their missing loved ones, and asked if anyone had seen them. One mother thrust the drawing at me, startling me with her forwardness.

  “Child, have you seen this girl anywhere? She’s my daughter. My sweet, young daughter. Is she your friend, by any chance?” Her cheeks were tear-stained, her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was gaunt. It appeared she hadn’t eaten in days, and I wondered if she’d been out there looking for her daughter all that time without any food.

  “No, I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know her, and I haven’t seen her. If I do, I will tell her to go home right away.”

  It was the most comfort I had to offer her. In the short time I’d been in America, I hadn’t made friends with anyone my age. That was a sad fact when I thought about it, but I soon moved on to a different thought when the next person asked if I’d seen her missing son. As I looked around the crowded streets, I saw several more people with sketches. One thing they all had in common was they all appeared to be poor—in dress, in conduct, in status.

  “Mother, do you see what I see?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The murdered girls, they were all prostitutes. All these missing people, they’re all poor. He’s picking people he thinks won’t be missed. He probably didn’t think all these people would be out searching for them.”

  “You think these missing people are also his victims?”

  “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Have you ever seen this many people out, desperate to find their missing family members? There are too many for this to be a coincidence. It’s scary, Mother. If he’d do all this, what else is he capable of doing?”

  “I hope we never find out, my girl. Here we are.” She motioned for me to enter the door on my right, into the seamstress shop. “We’ve been invited to a ball, and we need proper gowns to wear. We’ll have beautiful brand-new ones made for it.”

  “You mean I’m going with you?”

  “Yes, Alea, you’re going to the ball, too. I’ve spoken with your father and convinced him you can act like a mature lady long enough to go with us. The ball will be held in six weeks. We barely have time to have one suitable gown made, much less two, but this seamstress comes highly recommended. Do not disappoint me.” Her tone and her eyes held the warning that needed no further explanation.

  Stay away from Ramses Barnett.

  Ramses Barnett, 1790

  I’ve heard Alea’s thoughts loud and clear every time I’ve visited the Dunn residence. She watches from the windows, wishing she could join us, angry she’s treated like a child. When she finds me in the crowd, her notions take a drastic turn. Visions of her and me in various stages of a sensual dance replay in her mind.

  If she only knew how much further I could take her fantasies, how much I could teach her, and how much she’d love every second of it. She’s young, inexperienced, and is prone to fantasy. What she doesn’t know yet is reality is so much more pleasurable and satisfying. Her passion is so strong at times I can feel it radiating from her thoughts. One more thing to throw fuel on my own fire.

  Slade has been so busy with his own clients, he hasn’t paid much attention to me and what I’ve been doing since the fight we had. Which is a good thing, because I’ve been very busy. After leaving the Dunns’, I’ve gone out on hunting sprees and enjoyed the spoils of the night. It’s way too easy to prey on humans. They’re gullible, trusting, and think everyone is inherently good. But I’ve been a very bad boy. If Slade ever noticed my absence, my plan was to tell him I’d been in the forest, relieving my insatiable thirst.

  “Hello, beautiful. Do you live around here?” I delivered my line flawlessly, feigning concern for the current victim’s well-being. She was beautiful and young. With her flowing red hair in long, loose curls, her porcelain complexion, and her toned body, she was the epitome of gorgeous.

  I had a desperate need to add her to my collection.

  “Only a few blocks north of here, actually. Do I know you?” She narrowed her eyes and studied my face, like she was sure she’d seen me before but couldn’t place where.

  “No, ma’am,” I replied cordially. “I’m positive I would remember you if we’d met before. My name is Ramses. And you are?”

  She smiled and dropped her eyes to the ground in modesty. The pink tinge of her cheeks spread down her neck right before my eyes. “You flatter me, sir. I’m Corinne.”

  “Miss Corinne, I’d be honored if you’d allow me to walk you home. A lovely lady such as yourself should have a gentleman to escort you and make sure you get home safely.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Ramses.” Her tone was gracious as she looped her arm with mine.

  We were about a block from her house when the crowds thinned out to virtually no one. No witnesses. No one to hear her cries for help. No one to come running if she screamed. It was a nice, quiet neighborhood that hadn’t built up as quickly as other parts of the city. In less time than it took to blink, she was in my arms, and we flew through the air to my secret love nest where Richelle waited.

  Corinne was understandably confused when we landed. Moments ago, she was close to her home. Before she realized what had happened, she had no idea where she was. Or who she was with, or what I planned to do with her. But she knew it couldn’t be good. She knew she wouldn’t be a
ble to escape from my hold. I didn’t really have to read her mind to know what she was thinking—I could smell her fear emanating from every pore in her body.

  “Sweetheart, just relax. You’re breathing too fast. You’ll pass out if you don’t slow down. You don’t want to do that and miss all the fun.”

  I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to guide her down the stairs and into the darkened basement. With my strength, she couldn’t have walked away from me even if she had her wits about her to do so. The slightest touch was all it took to control her slight body. Too much pressure would crush her bones, but that’s not what I wanted for her.

  My eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness. Even though I can walk freely in the light, the darkness is my home. I can see better in the pitch black of night than in the bright sunlight. Just one of the advantages of being a vampire. It took Corinne’s eyes several minutes longer to adjust enough to make out shapes in the dark. The shapes began to morph into identifiable forms, and she whimpered loudly when realization set in.

  First, Corinne saw Richelle stretched out on the bed, naked but partially covered with a sheet. Corinne’s eyes drifted to a couple of small puncture wounds on Richelle’s exposed breasts that were almost healed. Her gaze continued along the lines of Richelle’s body until she saw the shackle around Richelle’s ankle, then along the chain to where it was attached to the wall. It was then Corinne knew her fate had been sealed. She knew I’d never let her leave and risk being discovered. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she was mine.

  “Corinne, this is Richelle. You’ll be keeping her company for a while. You’re both here for my pleasure. But my pleasure will definitely also be your pleasure. Come. Let me show you.”

  Her dress ripped completely in two with a quick tug on the back and crumpled to the floor in a pile at her feet. Her hands flew up to cover her breasts, and I just smiled to myself. A similar pull on her panties left them in shreds, and she was out of hands to cover all her best parts. While still standing behind her, I laid my hands on her shoulders and gently caressed the skin down her arms, straightening them at her sides as I moved.