Interlude: 1743

  As a vampire, I had the unique downside of generally being forced to sleep through the day. So when a daymare awakens me around noon, it is an otherworldly feeling. My mind swam with thoughts as if they were someone else's problems. The last lingering feeling was of a dark shadow leaned over me with her fangs buried deep in my neck, drinking deep as I grew weaker and slipped into the abyss between life and death.

  I was inside my dark basement staring at my withered hands; bullet holes through my chest, and mind slowly drifting back through time. It was an unusual feeling, because my hands looked about as skeletal as they could get. The skin was so tight it didn’t have any muscle or fat, just a thin layer over bones and wiry hair. A rotting bullet-ridden husk was a far cry from the beautiful woman I was in 1743.

  I was so foolish as I wandered dimly lit streets of a now long destroyed island city, blissfully unaware of the monster stalking behind me. A man. Not just any old man, but a pale Spaniard from the Colonial Underworld. I didn't know about vampires at the time and thought he was just a noble.

  My first encounter with the sharply dressed man was him wrapping an arm around my shoulder and whispering in accented English, “Stay quiet, keep walking and you will be compensated for your time.”

  I didn't have a pistol on me at the time and neither did I have a dagger despite me wishing for one. The guards usually conducted random weapon searches, which left me weaponless, so I listened to the man. My heart pounded in my chest with each step as I wondered where he was taking me. I did come up with a plan to kick the man and run, but he never gave me the chance.

  He leaned in as if he was going to kiss me on the side of the head. I recoiled away and closed my eyes. “I need your help to survive this night,” he whispered.

  I cocked an eyebrow at the man as I opened my eyes. “You need my help?” I replied with clear skepticism, because who would need my help? Much less a man asking me for help! A woman with little experience about the world and none in the world he lived in.

  The man nodded slowly and explained, “I need a place to stay for the day if you do not mind. I will be gone by sundown and you will have your reward; my debt.”

  “That is all?”

  The man glanced around for a moment, keeping watch over his shoulder as we wandered through the seaside town. “I can assure you, owing a debt to me is worth more than money.”

  It didn't feel right to be paid with a favor, but I was an idiot who didn’t see the signs.

  I think he could tell, because the man patted my shoulder and sighed. “How does twenty shillings and companionship for tonight sound?”

  Like a deal.

  And so I told the man where I lived. It was a bad idea, but I'd be well buried if I never helped him. At least then I would never have to look at the hideous reflection I carried at the time.

  That’d be far worse than what actually happened. The two of us went back to a large manor where I lived as a servant to the local governor. Something I’d done for the last few decades. I snuck the man through the servant’s entrance and down a darkly lit hallway to my room. He didn't mind the dim lighting and I didn't realize why at the time. Both of us were fairly quiet as we crept hand in hand through the halls.

  I don't know if we were followed, but considering I survived the week he stayed with me. It was a good bet that he either killed the ones chasing him or successfully evaded them. Or they were never there to begin with.

  He gave me instructions I thought odd at the time; do not disturb him during the day and keep the window as covered as possible. The pale man would know if the sun crept through the openings. After I agreed to keep him safe for the price of twenty shillings, he gave me another line.

  “I shall ask an odd request. Please do not fret, for as I said, no harm will come to you. May I bite your neck and sup on the delicious cuisine you carry?”

  It took a few moments to process what he was asking. The man pulled his sleeves up as if he already knew the answer to his question. At the time, I found him nice to look at and his voice was smooth enough I could listen to any story he had to say.

  That night, I thought the man was merely asking about a sexual fetish of his. I didn't know any better on such matters and thought he was pretending to bite my neck. I nodded. “You may.”

  As I sat on the bed watching the man stare at my body like I was food, I leaned back and held a leg up as instructed. The man was very odd. He first wanted to pamper me like I was a princess by taking off my shoes for me followed by my stockings and everything else. I bit my lip while he removed the shoes one by one.

  “Wait.” I pulled the leg back before he could get the stockings beyond my knee.

  The Spaniard frowned at me. “What's wrong?”

  “I have something to tell you,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest like it was beating to quarters. Quick rapid fire thumps in a steady note, because I feared what I was about to tell him.

  He cocked his head in the dim candlelight.

  “I am not what I appear,” I said.

  “You’re not a werewolf, are you?” His eyebrows lifted up as his bright green eyes moved along my body from my feet to my face, across my borrowed dress, and back up to my face.

  All I could do was blink at the man. He truly believed I was a werewolf! I opened my mouth to speak softly, so my ‘normal’ voice didn't carry beyond the room. “I was not born a woman. I spend my days as a butler for this household and go out at night as you see me.”

  “Things you are currently worrying about cease to matter when you become my age.” The man shook his head from side to side. He waved in my direction. “So what do I call my delectable meal?”

  I opened my mouth again, but the man snapped his fingers, causing me to wait.

  “No, no.” He shook a finger. “Not the name you were given, my sweet, sweet morsel. I want to know you. What do I call the beautiful woman before me?”

  “Cassandra.” A name I liked to hear called my way, but it wasn't said often until he started saying it.

  “I like that name,” he replied. The man whispered sensual things as he climbed atop me and bit into my neck.

  I lost track of what came after beyond the blinding bliss of a vampire’s kiss. A feeling that could only be described as a near unending escape from the terrible reality I wanted to leave behind. A world without me would be better off, but in the moment of being bitten there was nothing beyond sheer ecstasy.

  The next day was equally odd. I hadn't bothered to go back to my room during the daylight hours, since I wished to respect the man’s request. I spent my time doing my usual routine until sundown and checked on the man.

  He still hadn't fully awakened by the time I arrived and looked like a long dead corpse stuffed in my wardrobe. His body was a leathery husk that was ready to fall apart if I breathed on it. The sight of his corpse was the kind of thing that would normally cause a person to scream in fright or run, but me? Well, I clutched my rosary close, observing the man for any signs of life. It seemed preposterous that he could die and decay that fast during the day. I’d say he was dead well over a century by the look of him.

  Of course there were no signs of life. Even the night before he had been just a bit too pale to be ‘normal’. I didn't remember much of the night beyond what we did. It felt like we had intercourse, but I now know that was just the lingering effects of the vampire’s bite. Possibly. Maybe. I don't really know, nor care as the man turned out to not be my type of partner.

  I assumed any attention from a man was what I wanted while I was presenting as a woman. But now I see that their attention is not as filling for the hole in my heart as a woman’s.

  So I stood there, watching the shriveled skin slowly mend itself, hair filling in the empty patches until he looked like just another fresh corpse. His eyes snapped open and went right to mine, head turning slightly in my direction.

  I smiled sheepishly, gulping as I moved my vocal cords around to hopefully have the same voice as the night before. “Sleep well?” I asked in my now normal voice.

  “You should have listened to me,” he replied quietly.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  My thumb gently traced the crucifix in my hand as I backed away to give him space to leave the wardrobe. “I apologize. I only wished to wake you.”

  “For your sake, girl, forget you opened the door.”

  “All I saw was a sleeping man,” I replied, lying. He knew I was, because he frowned slightly.

  The man I came to know as Robert climbed out from the wardrobe and dusted himself off, straightening his clothing. I stepped toward him, then backed off as my eyes went to the floor. I wanted to help in an effort to make up for my transgression, but he waved dismissively like I was nothing but a servant.

  The man spoke with a dignified air. “We have a long night ahead of us, Cassandra. First and foremost; you shall not speak to anyone of what you just saw. Second; you will accompany me on a jaunt across town. You have inadvertently forced yourself to come under my watch for the next few evenings while I decide your fate. Third; in following my rules and doing as I say, you will live to see countless nights. Understand?”

  It was clear at the time: Keep my mouth shut and eyes on the ground. Just like normal.

  I nodded slowly. “I understand, my lord.”

  Robert pulled a small blade from his pocket and slit his wrist open, causing my eyes to widen in shock. I gasped, stepping back again when he held the open wound out toward me.

  “This will stop your headache,” he said. Blood began to pool in the gash like a drink, tantalizing my nostrils with the sweet, mortal luring scent of vampire blood. “You watch over me and I shall reward you with gifts. This is how it will work from now on.”

  I didn't see how it could help at the time even when he explained that his blood had powerful effects on mortals. Now that I am a vampire, I can clearly see how much of a risk the man was taking when he was that loose with our secrets. It was not something one should normally say to a mortal that early, much less to a random being he picked up off the street.

  Unless he had been watching me the whole time I went out as Cassandra and I never knew, which was a possibility because I always frequented the same locations. It wouldn't be hard to find me.

  I accepted his offer, gently taking his wrist and placing my lips to it, sealing my fate with a long draw of his blood. After that drink, there was no going back to walking in the daylight. Robert kept me at his side for a few years until he lost his head in some council dispute I wasn't privy to. I was passed to Isabella as a ‘gift’, since I had become a valuable mortal asset in the council’s eyes.

  Being mortal in a vampire world is odd. Vampires used to comprise a hierarchy from the lowliest of bloodsucker all the way up to the city head. They could only do things within the bounds they set and most important was to not break the veil. Do not allow mortals to know you exist, but at the same time, loyal mortals are a vital function for vampire society. This allows some mortals to know of the underworld without being killed.

  The mortal servants had a hierarchy all their own. From oblivious civilians, to guards who had a dirty secret they needed hidden, to ship captains and finally people such as me. The ones who ensured vampires could sleep peacefully without being found by civilians. A retainer working under a vampire held orders to pay off or kill a civilian who flew too close to the truth.

  Robert owned a tailoring shop in Charleston since before I was taken across the Atlantic by my old master in 1727. Robert’s shop was well equipped and had a fair number of people coming and going during the day. Usually mortal clients who were looking for coats to beat the cold back during the long winters and I’d help them out in the evenings. Night was when the magic happened. As the rest of the world prepared for bed, the vampires awoke and Robert would stride down the stairs adjusting his sleeves and hair.

  The man looked every bit of a suave vampire looking to seduce the blood right out of you. From his powered wig and perfectly fitting clothes, making him look like a king, to his actual knightley lineage dating back to the Crusades. He was handsome, for a man, with a pasty complexion.

  Heavy footsteps loud and prominent alerted anyone still inside that the master of the house had awakened. Most often than not, I would have his nightly meal ready for him in the form of a mortal blood sack waiting in his chambers. At least that is what I call them; Walking sacks of blood ripe for the taking. It could have been my fate had I not impressed Robert in those first few nights. Which would leave me a blissed out mortal on a random vampire’s bed. I don’t know which fate was worse. Being embraced or being fed from on a near nightly basis. I’ll have to ask Lyra when she awakens.

  I never found out if the other vampires called them blood sacks or just mortals. Likely just mortals. Because the term blood sack was something I came up with one day and no one has told me any different.

  I handed off a letter from across town to Robert. He ripped it open to read by candlelight. Robert was one of those traditionalists from Spain who eschewed the newer arcane lamps and inventions. Stating that they could allow a mage to listen in if they were nearby. I never dabbled in sorcery, so I wouldn't know for sure.

  At the time, he didn't tell me what exactly he was. Only that he was a nightly creature come down from the heavens to assess the mortal world. I believed him for a time. His blood made me feel great, so I had no reason to doubt the man’s words. I did find it odd that he required drinking blood to function and never ate food, but I chalked it up to divine beings being different.

  Oh how idiotic I was. Blind to the truth and bound to serve the vampire through his blood. He didn't even have to be in the same room as me and I could hear his call. I could be halfway across Charleston and he’d say, ‘Sandra, can you please come by? I need to speak with you.’ And I’d be there within the hour because I felt his call. I would do anything for him if it furthered his plans. But he rarely asked me to participate in them directly. Usually message exchanges or finding meals.

  Robert held the letter over the candle until it caught fire. “It seems we will need to pay a man a visit tonight,” he said. “The letter you gave me was a communication between two mortals plotting to destroy a divine being.”

  “We cannot have that,” I said before he could say it.

  He shook his head and had me write a new letter for him, since one of the mortals had flowery handwriting he did not possess, but I did.

  With the letter written, Master Robert and I took a carriage across Charleston to a manor along the river where we encountered a few unsavory people. The types of scourge I never entertained the thought of speaking to before meeting Robert. Men who could kill without a thought because you walked into the wrong part of town. Like I did. All because Robert told me to deliver the letter while he waited outside in the carriage.

  The lowlifes stared at me in an awkward manner as I walked silently toward the barn door in my fancy dress. Robert saw fit to dote upon me in a most impressive way and my transformation from mere butler to an older noble woman was so stark I could strut past my old coworkers without them knowing who I was. The wonders of knowing the right vampires.

  That left me at the mercy of the scourge. Those same degenerate men who lived down by the waterfront and worked the docks or the factories. Exuding anything but confidence in the situation would spell my folly. Their place of meeting was a barn that smelled as vile and repulsive as stepping on horse droppings.

  Voices floated through the dark abyss of my memories, pulling me further into the images as I found myself inside the barn, approaching a pair of men standing guard at a stall.

  Robert had mentioned that I was to get the information to see what they knew and then dispatch them. We couldn’t have mortals knowing about ‘divine beings’. I was one of the chosen ones and excluded from their no living mortal must know rule. The ruffians would believe that I, Cassandra von Colterville, was their contact for the exchange. Only I didn't know what we were exchanging. It could have been anything.

  Robert was both loose lipped and tight lipped about what exactly he was and how things worked. The Spaniard didn't outright tell me he was a vampire, but I hadn't heard of vampires until well after I met him, so maybe he did his job well.

  When I approached the men I immediately saw a predicament I wasn't prepared for. There were two armed guards at an open door with a clear view of a shadowed man dangling on a hook. Rope bound the poor man’s legs and hands together while he was suspended off the air by his wrists. Bloodless cuts crisscrossed his body with blood pooled underneath him, turning the straw red. He was so pale and unmoving he looked long dead. But his heavy eyes twitched with unlife.

  A tall man circled him with a bloodied cleaver in one hand while another man watched it all unfold. Cleaver spat at the dangling man and said, “Not so tough, are ye?”

  The two guards looked at me with one pointing back the way I came. “Begone,” he said.

  I pulled the false letter from my bag and held it up for them to see. “I have this for Maximus.”

  The man reached for the letter. I pulled it just out of his grasp and frowned deeply. He glared at me in a way that would make any woman quake in her boots. However, I worked for a vampire and stood my ground, glaring back in turn.

  “Gimme that, lass,” he said. “You don’t want to soil your dress by going in there.”

  “I was told to give it to one man and one man alone, not a door. Allow me entry or you will find out what happens when my boss is unhappy.”

  He scoffed, tossing a thumb back through the door. “Can't be any worse than dealing with a walking corpse out for blood. These are dark times, miss. You best be getting on home and leaving the men to handle it.”

  Now, as a butler to my previous employer, I didn't really have much in the way of combat training beyond occasionally standing in as a sparring partner for my liege. He preferred I keep watch on the others around the house. So when Lord Robert told me it was my job to take these ruffians out should they prove difficult to deal with. I failed to tell him that I could not handle fighting them off, but I would try. The Lord knows I would try with my dying breath.

  So you can imagine the surprise that shocked me as I grabbed the man on the right by the side of the head and slammed him into the other one. They collided with a loud crack, stumbling into each other like the fools they were. Even as I stared in shock at what I’d just done, I tried my best to not show it.

  After I gathered myself, I pushed past the guards to the room with the corpse.

  Cleaver pointed his weapon in my direction and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I come bearing a missive for Maximus. Either tell me where he is or end up like those at the door.” I kept my eyes on Cleaver for the most part. Only occasionally did I look at the pale corpse just barely hanging to unlife as his fingers curled. Seeing Robert as a long dead corpse during the day and a fully ‘living’ person by night prepared me for unusual things. So I was not at all surprised to see a bloodless corpse still moving.

  By now, the man at the door had climbed back to his feet and stumbled inside, holding his head. “Something's out there,” he said. “It grabbed George!”

  That something was likely me, but I knew better now. It was Robert and Isabella. The vampire had followed me in despite claiming I’d go inside by myself. Me, Cleaver and Door hadn't noticed the other man with Cleaver had disappeared as well. We were too focused on each other for that and I had taken my glasses off in preparation for a fight.

  Cleaver glanced from me to the corpse to Door and back to me. “What's the meaning of this, wench?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but she strode out from the darkness, adjusting her long hair as she pulled it back into a bun. Isabella, my future sire, had already been stalking her way through the grounds by the time I arrived. At least according to her. She was hired by one of the council members to rescue the vampire before he could be destroyed. Someone had intercepted a missive detailing how to permanently kill a vampire and gave it to me to give to Robert for this mission.

  That was how we found where the meeting point was. I don't know how the council knew. Perhaps they found the person who sent it or perhaps it was luck.

  Isabella’s stark white hair gleamed in the shadows, pale eyes shining like stars in the dark. Her dress was clean and bloodless even though she later claimed to have drained other mortals just outside the door.

  She didn't even look my way before she eyed Cleaver. “I come for my pet,” Isabella said plainly, nodding toward the corpse. “Release him unto my care and see another morning. Ignore my words and face the wrath of unholy judgment.”

  I was so distracted by her entrance that Door came in close behind me. Too late did I notice him grabbing my hair and pulling my head to the side. As pain flared across my scalp, he pressed a dagger to my neck and glared at Isabella.

  “Back off or the wench gets it!” Door yelled.

  I frowned deeply. His attitude really was getting on my nerves and we hadn't met more than four minutes prior. Everything about the man was repulsive. I don't know why. Probably because he was torturing a vampire with his gang.

  Isabella merely shrugged. “She is not my charge to worry about.”

  “I said back off!” Door’s words echoed in my ears and left ringing behind.

  She waved toward the corpse. “Replace him with the wench. I care not what happens to her.”

  All of us had no words for her reply. She wanted them to hack me up like they were doing to the corpse. Robert would've killed her had they done so, but I didn’t know that at the time. I glared at my future sire as I came to my senses first.

  Grabbing Door’s wrist, I twisted it away from my neck. He resisted and normally would have won. But my vampire blood fueled strength was superior as I twirled out from his grasp. The man followed my movement in an effort to not break his wrist.

  We struggled against each other, spinning in place like we were dancing at first. It ended with Door throwing a punch that sent me stumbling to the floor. My head hit and I saw stars, stunned momentarily. It was enough for Door to step in and bring the blade down in an arc, aiming right for my torso.

  I had no sense of time to move as the blade pierced fabric and plunged into my stomach. Pain swelled inside my body like a volcano before a strange feeling took hold and quieted the pain down.

  He pulled the blade up for another strike. Shadows swirled around Door, grabbing his wrists and halting his momentum. He fought against them as an angry, pained scream left my throat. It was the kind of blasphemy fueled scream that one of the cloth would be ashamed to hear and have me in confession for a week.

  I leapt on the man and tackled him to the ground with help from the shadows. My fist slammed into his face again and again. Each blow shook my arm to the core. Each blow broke both my knuckles and his nose. Each ragged breath reminded me that I should stop, but I kept going, because my heart pounded for blood. I lost feeling in my hands and kept going.

  He screamed for me to stop, but I didn't. Isabella watched as she held the other man in place and forced him to watch what happened to his gang member. The frantic, frightened, words echoed in my head, but I didn’t stop.

  I didn't stop until Robert peeled me off the man.