Vampire in the Night: In Darkness We Must Abide, #1

by Rhiannon Frater

  “It is just in case there are any other vampires out there that will hurt you,” Roman answered.

  “Why aren’t they hurting you now?” Vanora asked, holding her crosses slightly before her.

  “Because I am not thinking evil thoughts, or doing evil,” Roman replied. “If I ever mean to hurt you, your crosses would repel me. But don’t worry about that. I will never hurt you. Now, go to sleep. Tomorrow, make sure to do the things I told you to do,” Roman instructed.

  “I’m afraid,” Vanora whimpered.

  “Don’t be. I won’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else hurt you.” Roman gently patted Vanora’s cheek. Her hand tightened on her crosses, but she didn’t cringe away. “You’re a brave little girl and I will do everything in my power to protect you, Vanora. I love you. I am so proud of you. Now, go to your bedroom and crawl into bed. Alisha can’t tuck you into bed tonight, but perhaps tomorrow.”

  Vanora nodded and walked back toward the door. “When she wakes up, take care of her, Roman.”

  “I will. I promise, Snow Pea.”

  Roman watched the door shut quietly behind Vanora and sighed heavily.

  How he was going to make this work was beyond him. He was now something he could not fully understand. The extent of his new powers had yet to be explored. Emotionally he felt no barriers. When he had felt like killing, he had done just that. When the desire to embrace his little sister had filled him, it had taken all his willpower to hold back.

  Now, gazing upon Alisha, Roman felt deeply depressed. He leaned down and tucked the blankets in around her. Somehow he knew that Alisha would not awaken until the next night, so it was safe to leave her locked in her room. She wouldn’t wake up in a cold coffin, confused and frightened. She would be in her bed, safe and sound, with him there to comfort her.

  Satisfied, Roman left the room. Now that he was fully in control of his faculties and the old vampire was vanquished, he could make plans for his family.

  Downstairs, he flicked on the kitchen light. He found a full bottle of white wine in the refrigerator and poured himself a glass. The liquid calmed his nerves, so he poured himself another glass. The gleaming white kitchen was spotless, as always, and it comforting to see that all was normal within the house. It was almost impossible for him to believe that he’d been declared dead and buried, and yet, he sat in his home enjoying a glass of wine.

  Roman ran a hand through his thick curls. Feeling dust in his hair, he glanced down at clothes and realized how grimy he actually was after all the events of the night.

  After finishing up his glass of wine, he rinsed it out and placed it in the drainer.

  Roman leisurely ambled through his house, appreciating every room and enjoying the feeling of being in his own home and not in the damned mausoleum. His mind was made up. He would not be shut out of his own home and he would find a way to continue on as he had. One thing would be certain: he would not be sleeping in a coffin and draining his neighbors. He would act as normally as possible. He would simply be Roman Socoli if that was at all possible.

  His body relaxed when he entered his bedroom. It was a relief to find it just as he had left it. The room was decorated with some of the few pieces of furniture that had been salvaged from the estate in Romania. Running his hand along the heavy chest next to the door, Roman felt almost normal. It was difficult to reconcile everything that had occurred within his very rational mind, yet he knew it to be the truth.

  Peeling off his burial clothes, he turned on the shower in the blue tiled bathroom. When the room was full of steam, he stepped under the hot stream of water. It felt good to feel the hot torrents of water washing away the filth that coated his body. He enthusiastically scrubbed shampoo into his dark hair until he felt fresh and clean.

  Afterward, Roman dried off with a fluffy towel and peered into the mirror. To his great surprise, he had a reflection. It was slightly transparent, but nonetheless, a reflection. Roman ran his hands over his face and leaned toward the mirror. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that they had not held before. On impulse, he pulled up his top lip to see what he had felt the night before. Sure enough, there were twin fangs retracted above his regular teeth.

  “What do you know?” he murmured.

  On impulse, he tried to make his fangs slide downward. Nothing happened. Roman’s brow furrowed and he tried again. Still nothing. Then a thought occurred to him. Roman deliberately remembered his attack on the junkie. The two fangs slid down over his other teeth, white and gleaming. Abruptly, his refection vanished.

  “Interesting.”

  Roman lowered his head and wiped the violent thoughts from his mind. He took several deep breaths and felt the fangs retract. Looking into the mirror, he was relieved to see his reflection again.

  “Someone once said the mirror reflected the soul. I guess it does.” Roman leaned against the counter and rubbed his brow. It was all too much for his brain to process.

  Shaking his head, Roman returned to his bedroom and dressed in his favorite gray sweater and dark corduroy slacks. Feeling more relaxed and normal, Roman shoved his feet into his well-worn leather slippers. It was beginning to feel like a very normal evening.

  Yet it was not.

  He was forever changed.

  Leaving the serenity of his room, Roman checked in on Alisha. She was sleeping peacefully, looking fair and beautiful on her satin pillows. Next, Roman tested Vanora’s door and found it locked. Satisfied that his sisters were safe and resting in peace, Roman hurried down the large oak staircase to the main floor and briskly walked into his study.

  It was exactly as he had left it. The leather chair crackled as he sat down, an old familiar sound. He ran his hands over the armrests, then pulled open a desk drawer. The business deal he had been working on when he had been killed was directly on top. The facts and figures meant nothing to him now.

  Roman stood and searched a cabinet where he stored his leather journals. After selecting a new one, he returned to his desk and pulled out a pen. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, sighed, and rested his chin on his fist.

  “Where to begin?” he wondered aloud.

  His eyes roamed the room as he sat in silence. Everything was the same and yet, he was different. He turned to a fresh page and wrote at the top “Goals” and underlined it.

  “I want to remain Roman Socoli and not become a beast,” he whispered as he wrote. “Therefore I shall not kill innocent people but I will find a new way to feed. Animal blood, perhaps? I will continue to live in my house and sleep in my bed as I always have. I will find a way to control my estate even though that means revealing myself to Uncle Nicolau.” Roman paused and pressed his fist against his mouth as he pondered the situation. “I will cling to God and fight this curse. I know that evil thoughts do nothing more than steal from my soul, and also from who I truly am. I must control this horrible hunger, the beast within. I will protect Alisha and Vanora, even if it means my death. If such a time comes that I would ever hurt any of them, I will kill myself.”

  The words began to flow as he continued scrawling his thoughts across the pages of the journal for the next few hours. When Roman felt his limbs growing weary at last, he looked at the clock. It would soon be sunrise. Was it true that he could not go out in the daylight? He closed his journal and stored it in his desk.

  Roman hurried upstairs and into Alisha’s room. He pulled the curtains shut and secured them with safety pins. No sunlight could get in, just in case the legends were true. Nervous and edgy, he paced restlessly.

  “How do I know if the legend is true?” There was only one way.

  Entering the hall, he stepped back into the deepest shadows and stared out the window at the far end of the hall. The sky was growing lighter, indigo turning to softer shades of lavender and blue. Gray shafts of light began to trickle through the window and onto the floor and Roman hesitantly stepped closer to the window. Pinkish-gold ribbons gleamed just above the horizon and Roman moved even closer
. Pale beams of morning sunlight fell on his skin, fiercely hot, burning his flesh.

  With a muffled cry, Roman fell back into the shadows. His skin was not scorched, just reddened slightly. Now he knew. The sun could harm him.

  “In darkness, we must abide,” he whispered sadly.

  13

  The house was full of shadows.

  As Vanora walked through the halls of her home, she felt as though she dwelt alone in a nightmare world. The once comfortable surroundings seemed strange, even menacing. Yet she had faith in Roman. Her beloved brother had promised to take care of her and since he was a loyal man who honored his family above all else, she believed him.

  Soon Alisha would be awake and Vanora would have her family back... in a strange and different way.

  Vanora paused in the doorway leading into the kitchen and watched the middle-aged Miss Robbins hurry about. She wasn’t really a miss: she was actually married to Ryan, the gardener, but Vanora had always known her as Miss Robbins and continued calling her that even after the housekeeper had married. Miss Robbins had a strong, stocky figure and shocking red hair streaked with white that she twisted into a braid that hung down her back. Her freckled face was always graced with a grin and laugh lines surrounded her green eyes. She liked to tell how she had left her native Ireland when she was a child because “Too many bombs going off is not good for my health,” and how the Socoli’s had taken her in. Vanora could not remember a time when Miss Robbins had not been in her life.

  “What you be wanting?” Miss Robbins inquired when she became aware of Vanora. “A little snack perhaps?”

  Vanora casually walked over to the housekeeper, who was busy kneading bread dough. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Dinner is a good six hours away, dear,” Miss Robbins responded, eyeing Vanora thoughtfully. “I’m believing that you’ve got a bottomless pit for a stomach.”

  “Can I have some dough?” Vanora asked, leaning against the counter.

  “Put some flour on your hands,” Miss Robbins instructed.

  Vanora rubbed her hands over the heavily floured wooden board, and Miss Robbins yanked a bit of dough off the lump in her hands.

  “Here you go.”

  Vanora tugged on the dough with her fingers, her mouth set in a somber line. “Alisha wants to see you and Mr. Ryan tonight in Roman’s study at seven o’clock. I forgot to tell you earlier. Are you mad?” Vanora felt nervous and unsure of herself. Was she doing the right thing by helping Roman?

  “Nah, there’s no reason to be mad. You told us in plenty of time. Will Alisha be eating with us or is she too sick?”

  Vanora rolled the dough between her fingers thoughtfully. “I think she’s too sick... kind of.”

  “Well, I’ll make some for all of us and put a bit aside for her.” Miss Robbins flashed her wide grin and dropped her dough into a large bowl and covered it to let it rise. “Are you going to make that into a wee loaf?”

  Vanora balled up the dough and stared at it. “I think I mushed it up too good. Maybe I’d better throw it out.” Her face was very somber. “I don’t think it’s any good for anything.”

  Miss Robbins studied Vanora worriedly. “Well, maybe we can make some cookies later on,” she suggested.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Vanora responded. She walked over to the sink and rinsed the flour off her hands. I’m going to be in my room. I have to do some thinking.”

  “Not playing?”

  Vanora shook her head solemnly. “I have things to think about.”

  With a sigh, she wandered back into the murky corridors of the house.

  * * *

  Miss Robbins watched the moody child leave the kitchen, her hands plunged deeply into her jean pockets. It wasn’t right for such a young thing to be so serious. After losing her brother, and in such a ghastly way, it was expected for Vanora to be upset. Instead, she seemed preoccupied and downright grim. She didn’t even seem to be mourning Roman.

  She shivered inwardly. Her dream last night was right. Something was seriously wrong in the house.

  * * *

  As the sun sank beneath the horizon, its pink and gold rays faded into a dark, cloudy sky. Windows began to light up in the imposing house and the clatter of people cleaning up after dinner mingled with the moaning of the wind.

  Night had come.

  14

  Alisha’s eyes snapped open, her hands clutching the quilt. Eyes wide and staring, she flipped her covers off and sat up, her body tensed. Her limbs were on fire, an unbelievable hunger, a deep dark desire, was spreading through her. Golden threads of hair fell about her shoulders as she slid off the bed. Her bare feet touching the cold floor, her black nightgown dissolved into the night about her.

  “Alisha,” a voice called out behind her, but she did not acknowledge him. Her senses were concentrating on one thing: the powerful, unbelievable hunger that was raging through her body.

  She needed to feed.

  * * *

  “Alisha!”

  Roman scrambled out of his makeshift bed and rushed toward her. This time his sister seemed to hear him and whirled about. Her eyes glowed brightly with the madness of the hunger. The hands at her sides were flexed, the fingers outstretched like claws. Roman was shocked at the inhuman appearance of his sister’s face. This was not the Alisha he knew. Her golden hair fell about a feral face with flushed cheeks and eyes like coals on fire

  “I want to help you,” Roman said soothingly.

  Alisha hissed.

  “Please, Alisha. It’s me, your brother, Roman,” he persisted, stepping toward her.

  A low growl rumbled through her chest. The ruby lips drew back, exposing long fangs sliding downward.

  Roman hesitated too long. She evaded him, flung herself at the door and wrenched it open. Roman was after her in a second, tripping in his haste. Her long slender body appeared weightless as she sprinted down the hall toward Vanora’s room.

  “Alisha!”

  The vampire turned on him, hissing. The hunger distorted her features, yet she was incredibly beautiful, more so than before. She threateningly growled at him while gripping the doorknob to Vanora’s room. Roman was a few feet from her but he knew her newborn predator instincts made her faster than he was. He had to reach through the madness somehow.

  “Alisha, you don’t want to hurt Vanora. Please come to me.”

  “Vanora,” Alisha said in a quite normal voice. The fiendish expression on her face was chilling. “Open the door, Vanora.”

  “Alisha!” Vanora’s excited voice called out from within the room.

  “Yes, it’s me. Open the door, Vanora.” Alisha’s eyes were narrowed slyly. She grinned at Roman, her long teeth gleaming.

  The door started to open and Alisha tensed to pounce. Roman sprang forward and caught her about the waist.

  “Shut the door, Vanora!” Roman ordered.

  The child had hardly cracked the door, but she immediately obeyed.

  Roman rushed down the hall, the writhing vampire hissing and growling furiously. When they reached the windows at the end of the hall, Roman leaped through the glass panes. The explosion of shattering glass filled the night, then his feet touched the ground. Alisha almost slipped free, but he forcefully held her to him. Her sharp nails tore into his skin savagely as she fought to be free. The ferocity of her screams and gaze were terrifying.

  The dew-covered grass was slick beneath his feet and he slipped, falling. Alisha wrenched free, scrambling away. He caught her, and she slashed him across the face. Rage filled Roman and he slapped her, knocking her over.

  “Stop it, Alisha!” he roared. Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, Roman pinned her to the ground.

  Hissing savagely, Alisha struggled against him.

  Roman’s anger subsided, replaced by overwhelming depression. Tears flowed as he pulled his raging sister to her feet. Resolute, he pulled her toward the mausoleum. Her sharp nails tore at the hand grasping her wrist, but his hold only tighten
ed.

  The mausoleum loomed before them, dark and grotesque. Roman passed through the closed doors easily and drew Alisha in behind him. Once inside, he hurled her toward the unconscious drug addict. With a howl of delight, Alisha fell on him, her nightgown spreading out about her like a cloak. The savagery of her attack was horrifying and Roman turned away.

  The hunger growing within him tortured his senses while he listened to her feed. Reluctantly, he gazed at her form draped over the pale young man. Knowing he had to feed, Roman knelt. The fear and pain of what he had become mingled with the need to eat. Alisha sensed him near her and lifted her bloodied face and growled.

  Roman covered his face with one hand and sank onto his heels. This was a nightmare. At that moment he wanted to die but knew he had to care for his sisters. It was his duty. He had to protect his family. Roman grabbed one of the man’s wrists. Long teeth descending, Roman growled and bit into the yielding flesh.

  It was nearly a half hour later when he heard a scream that jostled him from his bloodlust. He raised his head to see Alisha gaping at the bloody punctures in the junkie’s throat. The hunger was gone from her eyes and replaced by horror.

  Alisha lifted trembling hands to her face to cover her eyes and saw the dark crimson blood staining them. With a frightened cry, she cowered against the cold stone wall. Trembling, she gawked at Roman as he wiped the thick blood from his mouth.

  “Alisha,” Roman whispered.

  Alisha frantically tried to wipe the blood from her hands on her nightgown.

  “Alisha.” Roman gently touched her shoulder.

  Large, terrified eyes turned to him. “You’re dead,” she whispered.

  Roman took her hands gently and wiped the blood from them with the bottom of his shirt. “No, I’m not. Remember what happened. I’m now a vampire.”

  She blanked for a second, then she gasped. “Yes, I remember! Oh, Roman! Oh my God!”