History of the Vampire (The Vanderlind Castle Series Book 4) (6 page)

“Mathematics,” he told me, this time without as much hesitation. I figured that was about as much as I was going to get out of him, so I let things go at that.

There was a bit of problem when we were buying our tickets. Herschel headed up to the gal at the ticket window and purchased a single ticket. I guess that was his way of letting me know he had no interest in me romantically. Fortunately, the feeling was mutual. Unfortunately, it did lead to some awkwardness. I got in line with every intention of buying my own ticket, but then Walter insisted on treating me. I tried to argue with him, but he insisted. It was somehow more humiliating having my sister’s beau purchase my ticket than it would have been if I’d bought my own. Fortunately the film we saw was rather entertaining and I found myself laughing off the whole situation. Herschel, on the other hand, did not appear to enjoy the show. He did not laugh once during the entire movie and frequently looked quite bored.

On the walk home, I took the lead, trailing Herschel in my wake. I’d actually enjoyed myself more than on my date with Lev. But I didn’t want to prolong Herschel’s agony, so that speeded my steps. Lilly and Walter were walking at a leisurely pace, of course. They obviously did not want their date to end.

When I got to our front porch, I took a seat on the step. The weather was warming up a little, but the flagstones still chilled my bottom. I couldn’t exactly go inside without my sister, and Papa hadn’t put the porch swing back up since taking it down in the fall, so there was no other place to wait. Herschel eventually wandered up and sat beside me. He said nothing, so I said nothing. I did steal a glance at my watch. If my sister and her beau did not step lively, then we would be late getting home and that would be the end of Walter Bennett.

“I apologize for not purchasing your ticket,” Herschel eventually said, breaking the silence. “I must save every penny I have for college next fall, And Walter said this wouldn’t really be a date, so I saw no reason to incur the expenditure.”

“That’s alright,” I told him. “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the picture.”

“I enjoyed it,” Herschel told me.

“Really?” I was surprised. “I don’t think I heard you laugh once during the whole film.”

Herschel chewed over this observation. “I don’t…” he began and then he thought it over some more. “I don’t believe guffawing loudly in a public place is an accurate assessment of enjoyment.”

Guffawing?
I thought to myself. Herschel was certainly more intellectual than Lev, but he wasn’t exactly a pleasant person to be around. Fortunately for me, Lilly and Walter came into view at that exact moment, walking arm-in-arm. It was a relief because I knew Papa would scold both of us if we were late, and I really didn’t want to spend any more time speaking with Herschel Tuft.

Chapter 8

Jessie

I woke to a hunger that I never imagined was possible. The urge to feed was overwhelming. It literally crippled any other thought that entered my head. I could smell odors that would have never registered in my mortal nose. I knew the chambermaid had been in the room recently to change my linen. My mother must have sent her away immediately because the smell of her was very faint, but my urge to rip out the girl’s throat and feast on her red juices was overwhelming.

Fortunately, Mother was right there with a large jug of blood. “It’s alright, my darling. Everything is going to be alright,” she said, handing me cup after cup of the red nectar until I just grabbed the entire jug and gulped it down.

It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. It was ambrosia in my mouth. I could feel the blood coursing through my body, making every part of me tingle with satisfaction. There was only a small part of my brain that wondered how the liquid I was drinking had been acquired. Did some poor soul sacrifice his life for the precious elixir? I was ashamed to admit it, but a large portion of me didn’t care. All I wanted was more.

After the jug was gone, I was a little better. I felt saner. I still had horrible pangs of hunger, but not the kind of pangs that drove a person to do depraved things. I took notice of my hands. The red rash from my illness was gone and my skin looked extraordinarily pale. A small scar that I had been at the base of my thumb for as long as I could remember had vanished.

“Are you better now?” Mother asked, clasping my hands and pulling them to her cheek. “Do you feel under control?”

I looked at her, but suddenly I couldn’t speak. There was bile filling my throat. I felt like beetles and slugs were trying to crawl out of my mouth. I hated everyone and everything. I wanted to set the world on fire. I wanted to cause pain. I wanted to see mortals quaking with terror so that I could delight in their agony.

“Jessie?” My mother stared at me, her eyes wide with fear.

I’d always loved Mother dearly and I didn’t want to frighten her. I didn’t want to cause her any more pain than she’d already suffered with a monster for a father. And it was that conviction that centered me. The plague that I was tempted to let spill from my lips abated. I felt my old self again. “Yes,” I finally managed to say.”Yes, I think I’m…” I could not even think of the words to describe how I was feeling. “Calm,” was what I ended up saying.

“I’m so sorry.” Mother burst into tears. “I should have known my father would try something like this. I should have guarded the door.” She hung her head and released a deep sob. “I should have taken you all away years ago.”

“I think we both know Grandfather would have never allowed that to happen,” I said, sitting up a little in my bed and stuffing a pillow behind my head and shoulders. “He would have pursued us to the ends of the earth.” Grandfather was a very controlling man. He did not like the idea of anyone disobeying him, especially his own flesh-and-blood. His word was law.

“That’s true,” Mother said with a large sniff, her eyes glistening. She always looked beautiful, even when she cried. That was one of the things I remembered about her, even before she was turned. Her beauty had been enhanced by becoming a member of the undead, but it wasn’t created by it. “But still…” she said. “I should have tried. I should have thought of something.”

I put my arms around her. “Please don’t cry.”

She suddenly straightened up, pulling away from me and looking into my eyes. “You haven’t changed. Have you?” she exclaim. “I thought for a moment there…” She brushed at her tears. “But it’s not true. Is it? You’re still my wonderful boy.”

Running my hand through my hair a couple of times, I thought things over. I didn’t feel any different. Not really. Not deep inside. There had been a moment where I’d felt like I could have let the world tumble into the darkest pit of human misery, but that moment had passed. Yes, my sense of smell was better than a bloodhounds and I could see clearly without there being a light in the room. Yes, I craved human blood. I could already feel I would need more of the red nectar before much longer. But no, I did not feel innately different. I no longer felt hate in my heart. That moment was gone. I had no desire to kill or torture mortals. If anything, I felt sad for the life I would never live. I mourned for the girl I would never marry and the children I would never cradle in my arms.

“I think I’m the same,” I finally told my mother. “I don’t feel any cruelty in here,” I said, tapping on my chest.

“Thank God,” Mother said, wrapping me in her arms. “Thank God.”

I held her for a few minutes and let her cry in my arms. Then she pulled away from me and dried her eyes. “Now I only have Emily left.”

My poor little sister. She was a dear girl. The weight of continuing the family line would fall upon her shoulders. “We must find a way to protect her,” I said. “We must get her away somehow.”

Mother thought about it for quite some time before saying, “No, there is no way to take her away from my father.” She turned to look me in the eye, her face quite solemn. “If Emily is to be saved from the curse of eternal life, then it is Grandfather who must be removed from us.”

Chapter 9

Colette

“You didn’t like Herschel either?” my sister exclaimed as I walked my bike along side of her. “You’re impossible.”

It was Sunday and I had ridden out to the castle after church to see how things were progressing. I had expected the building site to be quiet, but there was still at least fifty men working, positioning stones and moving lumber into the castle. The second battalion of barges had already arrived and been offloaded. I understood there was to be a third and fourth round of boats on the way, the final of which would contain the castle furniture and family possessions.

I stood at the edge of the worksite, not wanting to be in the way, but still wanting a glimpse of what was happening. Most of the men who had been hired to help with the offloading of the larger stones had completed their work and been sent on their way. Of the men who remained, most must have been from Hungary. None of the conversations I overheard were in English.

The exterior of the castle was looking close to complete, as far as my untrained eye could tell. The structure was much more massive than I had ever imagined. I guessed maybe it was six or eight stories tall. I couldn’t exactly estimate by windows because there weren’t any and I didn’t know how high the ceilings were on each level. The exterior was entirely composed of the large gray stones that we’d seen being unloaded that first day. The castle wasn’t exactly an inviting structure, but historically speaking, I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. I still found the whole idea of a family moving their ancestral home across an ocean and rebuilding it in our small Ohio town incredibly romantic and I longed to know more about the people who were going to live there.

Several of the workers were standing in a cluster close at hand and I noticed that some of the men were glancing in my direction. They were rough-looking and dirty from their labors, but they weren’t regarding me in a way that felt menacing. Still, I thought it was a good idea to be on my way.

As I was turning my bicycle around, I heard someone call out, “You there.”

I didn’t stop. There was no possible reason someone at the worksite would be addressing me.

“Hello! Young lady,” the man called out again. This time I knew he had to be addressing me because there were no other females around.

“Yes?” I asked, while mounting my bicycle and rolling a few feet down the dirt road. I saw no reason to be within grabbing distance, even if my behavior came off as a little rude.

A young man stepped forward. He was covered with grime, but had piercing blue eyes that looked intelligent. “You are from this town?” he asked, waving a hand in the direction of Tiburon. “You live nearby?” He had an accent, but I could understand him easily enough.

“Yes,” I said, rather hesitantly, unsure why he was asking.

“I have seen you here before. You are curious about the castle.” He said it as a statement, rather than a question.

“I’ve never seen a real castle before,” I told him. I wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting.

“It is fine that you look now,” the young man told me, “but when the family is here, you must never come to this place. You must stay away.”

At first I thought he was trying to tease me in some foreign way that I didn’t understand. But his face was so grave; I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. “Why?” I asked. What need could there be for anyone to avoid the castle, beyond annoying the occupants?

“The family, they are…” he said a foreign word that I did not understand.

“They are?” I repeated.

The young man turned to the group of workers he had been chatting with before approaching me. They were all observing our conversation rather closely. My new friend asked them something in whatever language they were all speaking. I assumed it was Hungarian. The men shook their heads. A few called out more words that I could not understand.

Turning back to me, the young man tried again. “They are a cursed family,” he said. “They are…” and then he tried pantomiming out the word he could not translate into English. He began bearing his teeth, which were straight, but yellow. Then he made the action of biting down. “You understand?” he asked. After that he slapped his lean belly a few times. “They must feed.”

“Oh,” I said, doing my best to suppress a laugh. Was he really trying to warn me that the Vanderlind family was gluttons? But he was looking at me with such a serious face. Maybe he meant that vicious dogs guarded the castle and they would bite any trespassers. Yes, that made more sense. He probably thought I might try to sneak onto the castle grounds and would get a bad mauling for my curiosity. “Thank you for telling me,” I said, trying to match his grave manner. “I will be careful. I promise.”