A Dark Night (Book One of The Grandor Descendant series) (18 page)

“
Twenty-four year old Lisa Kidd was found murdered one week following
…” she read, but her words trailed off as an image below the news report made her gasp.

The picture had been taken in the grand square at her university, which had clearly been converted into what looked like a funeral or a memorial reception. There was a large crowd of people, all apparently looking up at a central speaker. Surrounding the speaker were five large framed photographs; four boys and one
girl, each with their name and date of birth and death underneath. Around the photos were many large bunches of flowers and burning candles.

Ari shivered as one by one her eyes fell on the four boys who had attacked her. Even after so long, it was difficult for her not to think what might have happen
ed that night, had Ragon not been there. She pushed this thought out of her mind quickly; it was too hard to think of Ragon not being a part of her life now. He had gone from being a mysterious man in the library, to being her knight in shining armour. Finally Ari looked at the last photograph, realising that she recognised the image of the girl- Lisa Kidd. She had been in Ari’s chemistry first year class. She had only spoken to Lisa once, when they had been paired together during a prac class, but she still remembered how kind and shy she was, and a suddenly sadness washed over her.

Trying not to think about Lisa’s death, Ari looked
around the room in thought, wondering why she had been forbidden to enter it. All she had seen were a bunch of books and some of Ragon’s sketching’s; it was hardly sinister that Ragon was an avid reader and liked to draw, besides, she already knew that about him from watching him in the library. This thought had barely left her mind when her eyes met with a small leather bound book, slightly hidden beneath some loose papers on the desk. The unique craftsmanship of the book had caught her attention and she reached for it, intrigued.

At first she thumbed indifferently through a few pages, until she realised from the hand written entries and dates in the top right corner
, signified it was a diary. Instantly her moral ethics screamed at her. Growing up part time in an orphanage, and the other part in and out of foster care, had taught Ari to be mindful of other’s personal possessions. She glanced nervously around the library, before sitting very still and making perfectly sure that she couldn’t hear anyone close by. After she was satisfied she was in fact alone, she flipped back to the first page.

Small cursive writing met her eyes
, and she focused on the date in the top right corner- 18
th
of September 1877, Ari read on:

‘Jay Cooke has closed its doors and much of my funds have been lost. It seems this new trend of Railroad labour strikes has finally reached us here in America. Hunting at night has made that grossly obvious. The streets are filled even more than normal with homeless people, and I find myself happy to end their suffering;
hunting has never been so easy. Half the businesses I walk past are closed or shut down, and there is fire and revolt in the streets. It seems at long last that the government’s indulgence into train transport has finally ended. Tonight, as I stalked my usual haunts, there were plentiful mortals lying in wait. It was almost too easy to pick off the unsuspecting stranded passenger who had been waiting to board a train home. Kiara too it seems is excited by the endless meal tickets bought on by the revolts. I watched in reverence as she took a couple who had been holding hands into the darkness, and drained them. I am almost jealous at the ease to which she can hunt. Though I have been a vampire for what feels like an eternity, I am still adjusting to my senses, and it irks me that my creator has mastered the ability to command her prey, where as I have not. The fat stock broker I killed tonight was by no means as tender, nor as juicy, as the woman I saw Kiara take. Perhaps tomorrow I will have more luck.’

Ari was staring in disbelief at the words she recited, reading and re-reading the entry
, so as to ensure she had made no error. How could Ragon have written it? How could he have felt this way? After she had read it three times, and knew for sure that she had made no mistake, she closed the book quickly. She felt sick; her stomach was churning, and not just from last night’s frivolities. She knew Ragon was a vampire, and that he had killed people, but there was something about this diary entry that absolutely shocked her. The person writing this was cruel, not the handsome stranger she had watched in the library, nor the man who had saved her.

For a few moments she continued to sit at the desk, her hand hovering over the diary, unsure if she wanted to read more. After negotiating with her conscious, she decided against it. She had completely forgotten her desire to find out about the other murders that had occurred in Brisbane city, and left the library, her feet dragging against the hard wooden floors, as wave after wave of horrible thoughts
piled up in her mind.      

It was several hours before Ragon awoke; the sun was no longer high in the sky, but at the bottom of the valley, and already the moon had begun to light the dimming sky. Ari was sitting cross legged on the couch, apparently deep in thought, and did not stir when Ragon walked into the living room. He sat down next to her, while Ari continued to stare off into the distance, seemingly not to notice him. The pair shared a few moments of silence, until the addition of a third person startled them.

“Good evening all,”
said Sameth, in an uncharacteristically cheerful voice, as he moved over to stand in front of Ari and Ragon.

“Hey,” Ari said sheepishly.

“Where have you been?” asked Ragon. “Patrick arrived last night.”

Sameth eyed Ragon intently; there was a slight edge in his voi
ce when he replied, “Hunting.”

Ragon nodded again, his eye
s mirroring instant disinterest.

“Not talking about me are you?” asked Patrick, sauntering into the room and smiling up at everyone.

Memories of Ryder flashed at Ari, and she raced at Patrick, saying, “What happened last night with Ryder? Is he ok?”

“
He was lovely,” Patrick mused.

The sickness that was already close to the surface boiled over; all the colour had drained in her face when she said, “
What do you mean… was?”

Patrick
’s eyes scanned Ari’s pale skin and he seemed to finally understand, because he shot her a knowing look and said, “Oh don’t worry. He’s far too cute to kill.”

Ari sighed. She was just moving
back to sit on the couch when Sandra and Thomas emerged from their room. Instantly Ragon raced over to them and then tapped Sandra on the shoulder.

“May I have a word?”
he said; Sandra took one meaningful look at him and then pair disappeared down the corridor.

It was at least an hour before Sandra and Ragon reappeared. In their absence Ari thought only of the diary she had read earlier. Why did Ragon want to speak to Sandra? Had he perhaps discovered that Ari had read his diary? When the pair appeared in the hallway, Ari eyed Sandra suspiciously; she wanted desperately to know what the pair had been discussing. The moment Ragon walked over to the veranda, Ari grabbed Sandra by the elbow and directed her into her room.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sandra, watching Ari lock the door behind her.

“What were you and Ragon talking about for so long?” asked Ari.

“Oh, just chit chat,”
said Sandra, waving her hand indifferently.

Ari’s eyebrows rose in disbelief
, and Sandra sat down on the bed, apparently uncomfortable.

“Really- chit chat? For an hour?
”

“
Ok, ok,” said Sandra, raising her hands in defeat, “but if I tell you. You need to swear that you won’t mention it to anyone.”

“I swear,” Ari
said quickly.

“He wanted my advice on something,” Sandra confessed.

“And,” Ari asked.

“And
… that’s it. That’s all you’ll get from me,” said Sandra, “not even if you take me to the gallows,” she added laughing.

“That’s not telling me anything,” said
Ari. “Advice about what; whether or not he should take me to the Halloween party? Or maybe… maybe he thinks I did something wrong?”

Sandra eyed Ari suspiciously.

“You really are taking this very seriously. What’s wrong? Did something happen between you?” Sandra asked. 

“Just tell me
!”

“Sorry, then I would be breaking a promise
; I’m from the South- our word is out bond. But I can tell you that you will find out soon,” she said, before adding, “really soon.”

Ari huffed, moved over to the bed and sat looking at Sandra
with narrowed eyes.

“Well,” Sandra said, looking at the imploringly look on Ari’s face. “I guess I can tell you one other thing.”

Ari leaned closer.

“He wanted to know more about how Thomas and I, um
… met,” said Sandra.

“Go on,” said Ari, her eyes lighting up with sudden interest.

“It was 1729 in Louisiana and I was about the same age as you are now. I was the second eldest daughter of Bernard Parkinson and lived in my family home with my two sisters- Laura and Emily. My mother had died many years earlier in child birth, bringing Emily into the world. The previous summer my eldest sister had been wed, and my father had insisted that I wait until after Laura’s nuptials to find a husband, as was the custom back them. My father made his money in slaves, importing the largest black slave colony in 1719, and selling them like cattle. Many suitors had called on me, and it was merely a matter of waiting for my season to come out, and my father to choose a candidate with the most prospects. Finally, after discussing with several potential bachelors, my father had selected John Wood; a 54 year old lord, who’s first wife had died barren. Eager for children to carry on his title, John pursued me enthusiastically, and after much negotiation, my father gave his blessings. The wedding was large; perhaps even the greatest event of the county that spring. Many lords and ladies had attended the ceremony, and though I knew the match would please my father, I also knew that I would never love my new husband.”

Sandra paused
before standing and moving over to the window so as to pull the curtains open, revealing the small moon which shone brightly in the sky.

“Are you sure you want to hear this; it gets a little, um, dicey?” asked Sandra
, and Ari nodded eagerly, so she went on. “That night John took me to our wedding chamber and locked the door. He had instructed his servants to leave the house for our consummation. I was still a virgin and inexperienced in love, and waited anxiously in the bedroom for my new husband to enter. When he walked in, there was a hunger in his eyes that immediately scared me. He ordered me to remove my clothing, and immediately I obeyed. Perhaps it was my lack of enthusiasm, but after only a moment of waiting, John moved over to me and began tearing away my remaining night clothes. It was the first time I had ever been naked in front of another man, and he stared at my stomach, and told me that I was going to make him a son. I can still remember his forced kiss; there was an overpowering taste of stale alcohol and tobacco which lined his mouth, and lent his kiss a foul odour. After that,” Sandra said, looking down at the ground as if embarrassed, “John bound me-”

“Wait,” said Ari, suddenly interrupting her. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

She had seen the look of terror on Sandra’s face, and it dawned on her that she was about to tell her a horrible stage of her past, one which she would most likely prefer to forget.

“It’s ok,” said Sandra
, looking at Ari meaningfully. “John has been dead for centuries, suffice it to say, that he left his scar.”

“So how did you meet Thomas?”
Ari asked curiously, wanting to move away of the subject of Sandra’s first husband.

“That night there was
a commotion outside. Many small fires were burning, and the stables and winery were completely engulfed in flames. John had left me tied to the bed, and saw that his estate was being engulfed by flames. He raced from the room and returned a moment later, a large sword held at the ready. A second later and two men stormed the room, and with them came thick grey smoke, that rose quickly to the ceiling. From where I remained bound, I could see that it was Indians who had attacked, and watched in horror as John duelled with them. I don’t know whether or not I wanted John to win or them. Part of me thought that at least if the Naztechs prevailed, they might kill me, and I would be spared the life which I had been thrust into. Though he was out numbered, John’s days in the army had taught him well, and the savages fought with inferior weapons. Deep in concentration, John did not notice as another Indian slipped into the room and moved over to me. I watched the tall man in fear, and when he produced a long wooden arrow, screamed. I pulled frantically at my binds, but they would not give. The Indian looked at me for a moment in sympathy, then took aim and shot his arrow. Everything became dark, until I saw a man, with bright green eyes and long dark hair that was tied neatly into a ponytail, climbing through the open window. John had seen this man and began screaming at him, that I was his. I watched as John delivered a fatal blow to my handsome stranger, sending his blade right into the depths of his belly. And then, miraculously, the stranger removed the sword, and in return, thrust it into John. I wanted to scream, but there was something in the man’s eyes that called for me to trust him. After that his hands tore at my binds and he covered me in his coat, slinging me onto his shoulder and racing to a nearby carriage.”