History of the Vampire (The Vanderlind Castle Series Book 4) (3 page)

Our father had a professional interest in the assembling of the castle. He ran a small construction company and had built several of the larger houses and a few of the businesses around town. When the market crashed, his business shrunk down to building garages and assembling houses that people had order from the Sears & Roebuck catalog. But he’d built our lovely home himself, and the property was paid for, so we were better off than most, although we did have to keep our day-to-day living lean.

There were butterflies in my belly as I climbed into bed that evening and they weren’t about the fast approaching double date. I was excited about the castle. It just sounded so romantic; I couldn’t help but wonder who would live there. Did they have any children? And if yes, would those children attend Tiburon High? It seemed incongruous for someone who lived in a real European castle to simply go to the local high school. I was pretty sure if there were any children living at the castle, they would probably have tutors or attend boarding school.

When it was time to get up extra early the next morning, I did not want to leave my bed. Not because I wasn’t excited about my day, but because I was having the most wonderful dream and I didn’t want to let it go. There was a boy who was tall and handsome with dark hair and pale skin. He had me wrapped in his arms and he was trying to say something to me, something wonderful. But then there was Lilly, shaking my arm. “It’s time to get up,” she told me. “If you want to miss seeing the boats bringing in the stones for the castle, then go right on sleeping.”

I scrambled out of bed and hurried to get ready. But as I dressed for the day, I tried to cling to the fragments that I could remember from my dream. It was just too wonderful not to savor. But it quickly faded, as dreams usually do, and I was left with just a vague yearning for a boy who I would probably never meet.

The Tiburon River ran to the south of the town and the castle was to be reassembled on its northern bank. It was officially a river, but not a very mighty one. There was no way for a cargo ship massive enough to make a transatlantic voyage to sail down the waterway. So the stones of the castle were offloaded from the ship somewhere out east and loaded onto railcars. At some point they were then loaded onto shallow-bottomed barges that usually traversed the Ohio River and wended their way to the Tiburon River. And eventually the pieces and parts of the castle reached Tiburon.

Papa drove the car down a dirt road. Eventually the road petered out so we had to walk about a quarter of a mile after that to get to the river. The barges had already arrived and were lined up along the bank ten deep. Working the barges were dozens of men, covered in grime, with dark, ruddy faces and fierce bright eyes shouting to each other in a language that was unrecognizable to me. Local men swarmed the landing where the stones were being offloaded. A couple of large platforms with winches had been erected on the land to transfer the large stones, some of which were as small as a child’s Radio Flyer red wagon. Other stones were as large as large as a Model T. The stones were a uniform dark gray in color and each was tagged with a number in bright red paint. I assumed that was so the workers would know how to put the castle back together again.

A massive foundation had already been dug into the ground about thirty yards from where the barges were being unloaded. Men were standing in a long line, passing stones about the size of a pound of flour hand-over-hand into the foundation like firemen passing buckets to quench a fire. My father’s friend, Bill Galler, was standing near the edge of the foundation, so Papa strode over to speak to him.

Mama, Lilly and I followed in his wake. We knew nothing about the workings of a construction site beyond to stay out of the way. That was a lesson our father had made clear since we were very little girls.

“How’s it going, Bill?” Papa asks, shaking the other man’s hand with a firm grip. “Seems like half of Columbus must have come up here today. Where’s everybody sleeping.?”

“There’s a small tent city on the other side of the woods,” Bill told him. “A couple of tents for Americans and then another one for the foreigners.”

“Why didn’t they hire more local men from here in Tiburon, if you don’t mind me asking?” Papa inquired, not sounding pleased, but not sounding angry either.

“Don’t know,” Mr. Galler said, taking off his hat and wiping his brow, even though it was a chilly morning. “I was as surprised as anyone when I got the call offering me the job.” After thinking it over he said, “It might be my name. Galler is Hungarian, you know. My family came over about fifty years ago. We don’t think much about the connection anymore, but that might be it. Or maybe I just got lucky.” Clapping my father on the shoulder, he said, “Either way, I’m sure it wasn’t an intentional snub on you. Or anyone in Tiburon,” he added.

“Sure looks like you have your work cut out for you,” Papa said, surveying the line of men moving the smaller stones. “What’s going on with this foundation?”

“It’s a dungeon, if you can believe it,” Mr. Galler told him, causing Lilly and I to exchange quick looks. “It’s a real honest-to-goodness medieval castle and those things usually came with a dungeon back in the day. At least that’s my understanding.”

“I hope they don’t intend to use it as one now,” Papa said, taking a few steps closer to the massive hole and peering around.

“Not that I know of,” Mr. Galler told him. “There’s not a lot of communication on this end, but my understanding is that it’s to be used for storage.” He put his hat back on his head. “That or as guests bedrooms.” When my father gave him a questioning look, he cracked into a smile.

His comment made Papa chuckle. “Well, I suppose if they’re trying to keep things historically accurate then they have to put in the dungeon.” He rubbed his chin. “As a matter of fact, I may have a use for it.” When Mr. Galler gave him a curious look, he added, “A couple of young fellows are taking out my daughters on Friday night.”

“Well I don’t blame them boys,” Mr. Galler said, shooting us a smile over his shoulder and tipping his hat to our mother. “Your girls have turned out quite pretty. I’m sure there are many young men here about who would like to have that honor.”

“Speaking of our girls, I believe we’d better get going,” Mama said, interjecting herself into the conversation. “We don't want them to be late for school.”

Papa looked reluctant to leave the bustle of the worksite. “Would you mind taking them over there on your own, Lillian?” he asked. My older sister had been name after our mother. “I’d sure like to stick around awhile.” He looked at Mr. Galler. “If you don’t mind, Bill.”

“Be happy to have you,” Mr. Galler said. “I’ve never worked on anything this big before. I guess this is the closest I’ll ever get to erecting a skyscraper in New York City.”

“Fine with me,” Mama said, trying to keep the glee from her voice. She loved any reason to drive the car when our father wasn’t around. And, with things being so slow for his work, Papa was around more often than not. “Should I swing back to pick you up before lunch?”

Papa cast a questioning eye in Mr. Galler’s direction.

“My wife came down with me to stay a few weeks,” was the man’s reply. “She always packs my pail with enough food for three men.”

“How about I just swing by before I get super started?” Mama asked, smiling at the two men. Papa was downplaying it all, but it was obvious he was as excited about the construction of the castle as some men get about a new car.

“That’ll be fine, Lillian,” Papa said.

“Come along, girls,” Mama said, putting an arm around Lilly and the other around me. “We’d better hurry or you’ll be tardy.”

We turned to start heading back to the car. I really would have rather stayed and watched the men work, than sit staring at the blackboard while Mr. Wilmore droned on about the quadratic formula, but I knew I would never be allowed to stay. Still, as we left, I felt a great longing to know more about the castle and its future inhabitance. “Please, Mr. Galler,” I said, quickly ducking back around. “What is the name of the family who is going to live here?”

Mr. Galler smiled. He seemed like a very genial man. “Vanderlind, I believe,” he told me. As far as I know, the family’s name is Vanderlind.”

“Vanderlind,” I said to myself as I turned to catch up with my mother and sister. The name had a dashing quality to it, like a character written by Sir Walter Scott. I couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder again to catch another glimpse of the massive stones being moved ashore for the construction of the Vanderlind Castle.

Chapter 4

Jessie

“I want you to glean as much information as you can about this move from your grandfather,” Mother said in a low voice as she pretended to straighten my tie. “Don’t make it obvious, but listen whenever you can.” It was the night after Grandfather had dropped his bombshell about the move. One of the other vampire families was throwing a ball and we had dressed accordingly.

“What kind of information?” I asked her, also keeping my voice low. My tie was already perfect; the adjustment of it was just a pretense.

My mother gave just the hint of a shrug. “Anything.” she said. “Where is it? That would be good for a start. I can’t even find Tiburon, Ohio on a map. And who is in charge of the construction? Any details about the town or the voyage would be helpful. Just tell me anything you hear.”

“I think Mrs. Denkler will probably know more about that than anyone,” I told her.

Mrs. Denkler was the castle house keeper and seemed to know more about our family than was normally healthy for a mortal. Grandfather trusted her implicitly, which was saying a lot. He’d even offered to turn her a few times, but she’d refused. “If you’d only made me the offer when I was still young and beautiful,” she would always tell him, “then I would have jumped at the chance.”

There seemed to be a steady supply of mortals in Europe who were willing to work for the undead — I didn’t know if that was because they were hoping to become undead themselves or because vampires usually paid a little better — but Mrs. Denkler showed a devotion to our family that was above and beyond ordinary mortal loyalty.

“You know that Denkie has always been my father’s agent,” Mother said, ruining the shape of the tie just so she would have to wrap it again.

I nodded. She was right. “I’ll keep my ears open,” I assured her.

“And…” Mother hesitated for a moment. “No words about this to your brother or Emily. Let’s just keep this conversation between us.”

“Understood,” I said with a nod.

“Now you look extra handsome,” Mother said in a brighter voice, stepping back to admire her handy work. “I can only imagine how well you’ll look once you’ve been turned. There won’t be a girl in the New World who can resist your charms.”

I always felt awkward when anyone made a joke about me chasing after girls. I was old enough to find the opposite sex very appealing, but I wasn’t exactly “girl crazy”. Or at least that was how my cousin Dorian was frequently described. What I truly wanted — and wasn’t willing to ever admit aloud — was someone to love and cherish with every fiber of my heart. And to know in my soul that the girl felt the same way about me.

But, given the circumstances of my family, I doubted I would ever have the opportunity to fall in love. Unless I could find a way to escape my grandfather’s clutches and elude the family curse. I was only seventeen, so at least I still had a few years to try.

As we planned our transatlantic voyage, Mother was adamant that Mrs. Denkler book everyone separate cabins, using different names for each member of the family. Grandfather was reluctant. “That would be like saying we’re ashamed to be Vanderlinds,” he insisted. I assumed that Grandfather was only being stubborn because using separate cabins was someone else’s idea.

“But just think, Father,” our mother implored him. “If one of us was to be accidentally discovered, the whole family could be wiped out.” Shaking her head and frowning, she added, “No. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that we must take separate cabins. I wouldn’t even be opposed to separate ships.”

But on this point, Grandfather was firm. He could see the sense in the family having separate cabins and traveling under assumed names — travel documents were easy enough to have forged — but he would not hear of separate ships. Eventually Mother had to concede. I said nothing to anyone, but I had the strong suspicion that all our mother really wanted was the separate cabins. She brought up the separate ships so that her father would have something to rail against and feel satisfied.

It was finally settled that Emily and I, being the only two family members who still remained mortal, would travel together under the Vanderlind name. The rest of the family would travel under different assumed names. We would not associate with each other except by the most casual of meetings. My uncle and cousin would follow later, once all the business of the Vanderlind estate was settled. Arranging for the boat was actually the easiest things to organize when compared to the numerous tasks necessary for our move to America.