The Vampire Curse (Shadow world: The Vampire Debt Book 2)

by Ali Winters

  I raise a brow in question.

  He grunts. “Prepared blood just doesn’t compare with fresh from the vein.”

  Cassius rubs his chin and, slowly, red forms around his irises. He licks his lips. Blinking several times in a row, he seems to break out of a trance and straightens. He clears his throat and says, “Allow me to refresh your drink.”

  He saunters across the room and deposits my unfinished cup of wine on the piano, then crosses toward the human man standing against the wall with his tray of wine glasses.

  A snort of derision comes from behind me. I whirl and am inches from the man, my eyes level with the knot of his cravat. I lift my chin and look into the eyes of Victor Connors. He leans over me.

  I take a half-step back so my neck will be at a more natural angle. But I don’t create much space, nothing that will hint that I’m retreating. His eyes seem muddier than I remember, darker. Dark lines move through his irises and almost seem to leak into the whites.

  He smiles, but there is nothing friendly about it.

  “Cassius has been hogging your attention. The rest of us are starting to get a bit jealous,” he says.

  A frog croaks at my feet and I jump back, startled. No, not a frog, but a fat, wart covered toad. The demon hops forward until it’s touching the hem of my dress. Usually, I wouldn’t think twice about such a creature, but this one sends gooseflesh racing up and down my arms.

  I swallow hard, fighting the urge to take several more steps back.

  “Here you are, Victor,” Lawrence drawls, seeming to come from nowhere. He shoves a glass of blood into the other man’s hands while throwing an arm around his shoulder, then he looks to me and adds, “Alaric sends his regards.” He tips his head toward where he stands by the window, looking over Cassius’s shoulder at me. “He will be a few moments more.”

  While his words are perfectly civil, the subtle hostility in his tone grates on my nerves. Alaric had been confident that Lawrence wouldn’t be a threat to me. Except with that look, he seems to be the one vampire in this room that would like to separate me from my blood the most.

  I don’t have time to contemplate further before Della slips between the two men and pouts up at Lawrence.

  “I’m feeling neglected, Sire.” She bats her eyes at him and sighs.

  Lawrence scoffs. “You are fine, Della, there are plenty of mortal men to keep you busy.”

  She harrumphs, then turns her piercing eyes on me, so dark they appear almost black. With a sneer, she scans me from head to toe before turning back to Lawrence.

  “I don’t know what everyone’s fascination is with something so plain and…” She cuts a glance to me again, her eyes lingering on my uncovered arms. “Ruined.”

  I narrow my eyes, refusing to be ashamed of the scars that run over my arms. These scars mean that I fought for my life, that I am not dead—burned on a funeral pyre, and ash scattered on the wind. They mean that I am still alive.

  Lawrence rolls his eyes and looks away, not acknowledging her remarks. My temper flares, and I open my mouth to respond in kind, but Victor beats me to it.

  “Do not worry your pretty little head, Lady Moore, you are a vampire, and she is but a human.” He waves a hand. “Nothing of consequence.”

  I’ll be damned to the Otherworld if they think I’ll continue standing here, allowing myself to be insulted.

  I spin on my heel and march out of the room and down the hall, fuming. The smell of flowers is thick in the air.

  One of the glass doors is ajar, letting the warmth and fragrance permeate the hall. I hadn’t realized it had subtly filled the music room. My nerves were too frayed to notice.

  I have only been in this area of the manor a handful of times. A shiver runs down my spine as the memories of my last visit come rushing back. The scars on my arms tingle with the phantom pain pulsing through them.

  I can remember the sound of the unsteady staircase creaking and feel it swaying as it damn near fell apart from under me. If I had been any higher, I would have broken something… or worse, died.

  “What are you doing out here alone, little bird?” Cassius asks.

  I clench my jaw. I despise the nickname he has deigned to bestow upon me. I am no bird. Not any longer. And no amount of beautifully woven promises can ensnare me.

  I turn away from the glass doors and face Cassius.

  “I won’t stand there and allow myself to be insulted, even by vampires.”

  He doesn’t seem offended. He tilts his head and contemplates what I said. “I suppose one cannot find fault in that.”

  He moves to stand at my side and gestures toward the atrium.

  I shake my head and put a little more distance between myself and the doors, moving back toward the music room.

  “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

  My steps falter. It wasn’t a dream then. Cassius had made me the offer to take me from Alaric.

  Something cold brushes my ankle, and I let out a squeal, quickly moving to the side. A snake coils, watching me and hissing.

  I look between the two of them, my palms pressed flat against the wall at my back.

  Cassius smirks, his green eyes drinking me in and enjoying the fact that his demon startled me. He bends down and reaches out his arm. The snake wends their way up and settles around his shoulders.

  I push away from the wall and stomp up to him until we are almost chest to chest and glare.

  “Snakes don’t bother me,” I say. “I just don’t walk around houses expecting them to brush against my legs.”

  “How well do you understand the relationship between vampires and their demons?” he asks. He strokes the demon’s head with a finger.

  Some things I’ve figured out on my own, but I don’t want to appear ignorant.

  “I know you are demon cursed,” I say with a wave of my hand as if I couldn’t care less about the topic. “And I know your pet is your demon.”

  Cassius scoffs and rolls his eyes. “In a very basic sense, you are right.” He lists his head to the side, narrowing his gaze. “Would you like to know?”

  I open my mouth to say no. But that is a lie. I do want to know, and I believe the vampire in front of me will tell me everything because whether or not I am afraid is of no consequence to him. Instead, I nod.

  “There are three types of vampires. Elizabeth Fairfax, our queen, was the first. She is an entity unto herself and the mother of us all, and thus she and her demon are the most powerful. Then there are the vampires—like me, Lawrence, and even our dear Alaric. Still quite powerful, but not compared to her.”

  He pauses and I jump in. “What does that have to do with being cursed by demons?”

  Cassius frowns. “Patience, little bird, patience. I was just getting to that.”

  Cassius offers me his elbow, and after a slight hesitation, I slip my arm through his. We walk up and down the hall, not entering the atrium but also not returning to the gathering.

  “To become a powerful vampire, you must be made by a powerful vampire and be strong enough to bind with a powerful greater demon—mind, body, and soul… and to be able to control your demon. Once bonded, your soul makes the demon more powerful, and in turn, they make you more powerful. That is how Greater demons become Higher demons.”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. It’s hard to believe that Alaric is bound like that to Cherno. They have never seemed like a malicious being. I wonder how much of that is Cherno’s natural personality, and how much of it is Alaric’s control over them.

  “If you cannot control your demon,” he continues, “then that is the curse. Some might claim being bonded to a demon is a curse in and of itself.”

  Something he said has been nagging at my mind, and I finally realize what it is. To become a vampire, you must be made by a vampire… “How did Elizabeth become a vampire then, if she is the first?” I ask. “Wouldn’t someone need to make her?”

  “Good, you caught that.” Cassius smiles warmly. He cont
inues to pet the demon as we walk. “No one knows for sure, and if you ask Elizabeth, she would rather gut you alive than reveal the story. There have been many theories and whispered rumors through the ages, but as far as anyone can tell, she was a particularly strong human who happened to find a way to bind herself to a particularly strong demon.”

  “How can you tell if someone is able to control a demon or not?”

  Cassius stops up short and swings my arm until I stand in front of him. “There is no way to tell until a mortal is already bound.”

  “What happens if they can’t control their demon?” My voice comes out as a near whisper, as if it will somehow keep me safe. Or perhaps because this information—as far as I know—has never been shared with a human before.

  “The demon will control the person making them nothing more than a puppet for the demon to play with. It is hard to tell at first, but the longer the demon has control of them, the more they will show signs of their possession.”

  “And that brings me to the final type of vampire.” He smiles kindly. “They are less powerful and are considered lesser vampires, but they are still important. Such as Della—she was sired by Mr. Harkstead two years after he was turned.”

  “Where is her demon? I’ve seen Lawrence’s rat, your snake, Cherno, and Mr. Connor’s toad, but I don’t believe I’ve seen hers yet.”

  “She was created by one of the court, and not Elizabeth herself. Della does not possess a demon. Lesser vampires are turned by a portion of our demon’s power.” Cassius leans forward, placing his mouth near my ear and whispers, “And if you accept my offer, little bird, you will have a chance to become one of them.”

  His voice is thick, deep, and filled with the promises he made the last time he tried to get me to accept his offer.

  As if pretty words and a husky voice is all it takes to make me fall at someone’s feet. I back up a step, uncomfortable with how close he has become.

  I am an idiot. A fool to think he would actually share this kind of information with me. It was just a ploy to tempt me into allowing him to claim me and take me from Alaric’s side.

  “Thank you,” I say, maneuvering back toward the music room. “I think I would make a terrible vampire.”

  As I turn my back on him, he calls out softly, “I will always be around, little bird, for when you change your mind.”

  I shiver, but my steps falter at his next words.

  “It is a good thing you returned in time… there is no telling what Elizabeth would have done to Alaric had you not returned at all.”

  I swallow hard, forcing myself to not look back and to continue on as if his words were not a threat.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Clara

  The small flame flickers and dances on the wick of the tallow candle. I blink and look around. Night fills the hall around me.

  My head aches. I didn’t think I had anything to drink when I returned to the music room, but maybe the conversation with Cassius had unnerved me more than I realized.

  Vision blurry from sleep, I rub my eyes to clear them, but it doesn’t help. Something woke me, I knew what it was when I sat up in bed and lit the candle. Try as I might, I can’t seem to recall exactly what it was, and the harder I try to remember, the faster it slips away.

  Still, something pulls at me, urging me onward.

  The candles that are usually lit at night have been snuffed out.

  To the right is the staircase that leads up to the third floor. I should go to Alaric and tell him something woke me. In a house full of vampires, it would be the smart thing to do.

  No… there is no need, my mind whispers.

  Instead, I go left, toward the open window that looks out to the south. My bare feet pad softly against the cold, wood floor. I pull the window open wide and look out. The chilled night air hits me in the face and sucks the breath from my lungs.

  A thick clouds cover the sky, blotting out the stars and every bit of light from the moon. I blink and squint my eyes, but it’s useless. A dark shape moves against the shadowed grounds.

  Miles away, the glow of gas lamps illuminates the main town of Windbury against the pitch-black sky.

  Something draws my attention back to the yard—the snap of a twig, a rustle of leaves, a movement, a flash of light—I’m not sure. The blur that covers my vision seems to have also made my mind hazy. Wine and nerves are a terrible combination… but again, I can’t seem to remember drinking.

  I should return to bed and sleep this off. It was probably a wine-induced nightmare. I pull back and close the window.

  A whisper, no more than a breath of air, brushes against my ear. I whirl, but no one is there. The hall is dark, save for the light my small light gives off. The few candles that were lit must have been snuffed out by the breeze.

  The manor is quiet. Unnaturally so with the number of night dwelling beings under one roof. My heart pounds as if I’m running, my breath quickening.

  The temperature plummets quickly. I can’t seem to force my legs to move. My breath forms a white plume in the air with each exhale. I take a single step forward, then another, and another. Each one is slow, taking all of my concentration. I swing my arms to create more momentum, but it does little good.

  I nearly stumble, catching my toe on… the floor? I can’t feel my legs. The cold has seeped bone deep, the pain changing from thousands of needles to finally numbing my skin and muscles.

  I reach my empty hands out in front of me, wishing I had a light to guide me. I frown.

  Something is off. I press the heel of my hand into my forehead. The harder I try to figure it out, the more it slips from my grasp.

  Pressure squeezes my chest until each breath is a struggle.

  Alaric, I have to find him.

  No… I don’t need him. The thought feels strange and foreign. I grip the sides of my head with both hands.

  The world shifts from under me, and I can’t breathe. I fall back, but it doesn’t hurt… it doesn’t feel like anything. There is no impact. I try to pull in a breath, but I can’t remember how to breathe.

  Fire lances through my lungs.

  I gasp and blink up into Alaric’s face. Water drips from his hair. A fat drop falls, trailing down his face, past furrowed brows, and down to the corner of his mouth pressed into a tight line. His shirt is plastered to his sculpted body. He’s soaking wet… something about that sends alarm though me.

  I look around. We are standing in water almost as high as my neck. Trees stand black against the midnight sky like demons frozen in mid-motion.

  “What are you doing, Clara?” he asks harshly.

  I pull in a breath and press my hand to my head again—my pulse hammering against my skull.

  Alaric wraps an arm around my lower back and lifts me up, sweeping me into his arms. We are out of the water in a few of his long strides.

  “I don’t… know,” I trail off. I can’t remember why I came outside or when. I was just inside. “I can’t remember.”

  Had I even woken up before Alaric touched me?

  The furrow of his brow deepens.

  He moves fast. The frigid night air stings against my exposed skin. We reach the manor in a blink. He kicks the door shut with his foot and strides through the halls, not caring about the water trail we leave.

  Bounding up the stairs two at a time, he bypasses the second floor without a glance, and only when we reach his bedroom does he set me down.

  “This isn’t my room,” I say dumbly.

  Of course, he knows that. I just can’t seem to put my protest into words. Alaric guides me inside.

  “I would feel better if you stayed with me. Your night terrors are getting worse.”

  “I’m fine.” I grit my teeth to keep them from chattering.

  His eyes narrow. “Clara, you ended up in the lake, you almost drowned.”

  A violent shiver racks my body as the feeling slowly returns like a thousand needles. I don’t have the energy to fight.


  “Okay,” I agree.

  “Take off your clothes,” he orders.

  I don’t even question his motivations. I have never known any man who would say that to a woman without the intent to touch. But even in my current state, I see the logic. I need to get warm, and I can’t do that while drenched in icy lake water.

  Cherno flutters in, or maybe they’ve been here the entire time. They land on my head and lean forward to look me in the eye, blinking several times before flittering to the hearth.

  Alaric turns, grabbing the folded blanket off the foot of the bed. The second my nightgown hits the floor with a sopping thud, Alaric wraps me up. I think how familiar this situation feels. But unlike last time, he doesn’t leave the room. And, Otherworld take me, I can’t find it in me to mind.

  He leads me to the bed, laying me down before going to change in the bathing room.

  A fire roars to life. Weeks ago, I would have thought it impossible for a bat to start a fire. But Cherno isn’t exactly as they seem.

  Alaric emerges and sits in a chair in the corner of the room. I don’t know if he plans to sit there all night, but who can sleep with someone watching them?

  I reach out to him, and Alaric stands without a word and comes to my side.

  “I don’t need you to stare at me all night, I’m not going to evaporate,” I say. “Now sit.” I wriggle over, making room for him and pat the mattress.

  He does, and like the night before, I sit against his side. He rubs his hands over my arms, trying to warm my icy skin.

  For the second night in a row, I curl into his side like we are old friends, as if we always have been, as if it is perfectly normal for an unmarked human and the vampire that claimed her to be… whatever it is we are.

  I sigh. I don’t know why I am plagued with such horrible night terrors, but I am glad Alaric is here to help me through them.

  Eventually, the shivering lessens. I am still cold, but not painfully so.

  “Do you regret staying?” he asks after a while. His warmth seeps into my body. It feels good. His scent, subtle and woodsy, is comforting.

  “No,” I say without having to think. “Regret is useless, it changes nothing. Besides, I chose to stay because I wanted to. I’m not so fickle as to change my mind at the first sign of difficulty.”