Birth of the Vampire (The Vanderlind Realm)

Birth of the Vampire

Book 1 in The Vanderlind Realm

Gayla Twist

Copyright © 2014 Adrianne Ambrose

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1499647484

ISBN-13:
978-1499647488

DEDICATION

As always, to my darling Q.

Prologue

One of the few sage pieces of advice my mother ever gave me was that high school wasn’t to be enjoyed; it was to be survived. I guess I didn’t even pull that off. Not exactly. A lot of the things my mother told me were bat-shit crazy, but this one actually made sense. Of course, high school would have been easier to survive if Mom wasn’t constantly being locked up for acting like a complete nut job, forcing me to be placed in the hands of a reluctant relative or child services. Unfortunately, sanity was never my mother’s strong suit.

But if I had been happy in high school, then I probably would have drifted through life accepting the ordinary world. I would have been like everyone else on the planet, never probing beneath the surface of what is perceived as reality, never having the opportunity to witness the remarkable world that thrives just out of reach of the ordinary mind. If it weren’t for my misery and a twist of fate, I would have never realized there was such magic, such love, such passion in the world.

Given the choice, I’m glad I lived to see the unearthly enchantment of the hidden world. Or more accurately, I’m glad I died to see it.

Chapter 1

Haley

“You’re not going out dressed like a slut,” Uncle Kevin snarled. He’d bothered to get up from the couch, and I knew that meant trouble.

Still, I was caught off guard. I was wearing a sweater, wool skirt, black tights, and boots. Besides my hands and face, there wasn’t an inch of my skin showing anywhere. I looked down at my clothes. “What are you talking about?” I seriously wanted to know. I always tried to keep any confrontational tone out of my voice, but a little might have seeped in.

“Your skirt is too short, and that sweater is way too tight,” he informed me. I could smell the bourbon on his breath, and it made my stomach roil.

The skirt hit me at just above the knee. It wasn’t nearly as short as the crotch-dusters that a lot of girls at Tiburon High wore on a daily basis. Plus, with the thick tights, I was pretty sure I was pushing the edge of being as modest as a nun. I considered arguing with Kevin, but I knew he’d had half a pint of Kentucky’s finest since getting home from work. He was probably feeling good and buzzed. If he’d drunk the full pint then he’d have been all affectionate, draping his arm over my shoulders and slurring in my ear. But half a pint meant a quick temper and a quick fist.

“I’ll go put on a pair of jeans,” I told him, scampering back up to my room before he could say anything else. I grabbed my jacket on the way so that I could put it on over my sweater and zip it up to my chin before trying to get out of the house again. That way, Kevin wouldn’t be reminded of my sweater. As it was, I only had three sweaters to last me through the entire Ohio winter. And Ohio winters are long. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Uncle Kevin to buy me a new one.

Kevin was my mother’s half-brother. They had different moms and had never spent much time together growing up. Kevin was about ten years younger than my mom, and my mother never really enjoyed being around children, so even when they ended up in the same room together as kids, they didn’t find each other all that interesting.

I don’t know which well-meaning social worker talked Uncle Kevin into taking me in, but I would have preferred rolling the dice with another temporary foster family. There were a few good ones around, but they usually got assigned younger kids. Once you got to be a teenager, you pretty much had to shift for yourself.

Kevin was a maintenance worker for the city of Tiburon, and when he wasn’t at work, he was sipping at a bottle and yelling at the television during various football or basketball games. I didn’t know for sure, but I had the feeling he gambled on his favorite teams. Otherwise, why would he get so wound up when a team lost? Throwing a bottle against a wall in a fit of rage because a player missed a free throw seemed a little over the top to me. I never asked him about the gambling. I figured as long as he kept a roof over my head and kept his hands off me for the most part, it wasn’t my business.

He’d smacked me around a bit when I first got dumped there. I guess he resented me being a drain on his resources or something. So I got a part-time job at Darlene’s Diner. I’d worked my way up from dishwasher to waitress in just three short months. That way, I never had to ask him for money for my phone or gas or anything. And I was actually contributing to the home by grabbing whatever food the diner was about to throw out. Uncle Kevin never seemed to notice if a hamburger bun was stale, and I just plain didn’t care. If it was free, I was taking it home. I made sure to never load anything into my car that wasn’t about to be thrown away. With the economy being what it was, I knew there were more than a few adults that would have gladly taken my job away from me. And one of the quickest ways to get fired from a restaurant was to steal food. We just had to put up with the stale buns.

I had only a few months before I turned eighteen. I figured if I could just hold on until I graduated then I could find a place with a couple of roommates and go to night school or something. Unfortunately, I was going to turn eighteen before the school year ended. After that, Kevin could throw me into the street any time he wanted. And the state would no longer be obligated to look out for me. But I was pretty sure my uncle didn’t know the exact date of my birthday. As long as no “helpful” social worker showed up to update him, I could probably skate by for the last few months. If I was lucky

I stopped to look at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door before heading downstairs again. Without the skirt and tights, my outfit had gone from almost cute to mostly lame. I looked like I was bundled up to go sledding or shovel the snow or something. I wasn’t all that pretty to begin with, and my outfit wasn’t helping. But I wasn’t exactly ugly either. I was mostly just neutral, if that was a way to describe someone’s appearance. I had brown hair and hazel eyes. I wasn’t heavy, but I didn’t really have many curves to speak of. I always thought if I was a color, I would be beige. Just a bland background sofa color to set off the vivid throw pillows of life.

Kevin was parked in front of the TV again when I reached the bottom of the stairs, so I just called out, “I’ll be back early,” and sailed out the door. He didn’t really care what time I got home, but he might suddenly care if someone asked about my well-being, so I’d established the persona of a compliant teen who came home early, got good grades, and always did the dishes without being asked. It actually kind of sucked. But being bounced to one more foster family and one more high school was more than I could stand at that point. I’d decided that no matter what, I was just going to tough it out with Uncle Kevin.

Chapter 2

Dorian

I don’t enjoy the mortal world. Not anymore. Everyone always running around, convinced of their own importance, desperately trying to prove that they are a special snowflake in the middle of a blizzard. It can be quite painful to watch. And with each new generation, they become more and more frantic, never taking a moment to be present in their minds, always jumping ahead or wishing they were somewhere else. The technological advancements in the last half century seem to have only made people even more impatient rather than freeing their time. A driver will crash a red light and risk slamming into a pedestrian just because he’s hurrying home to watch TV. Humans always use urgency as an excuse for impatience.

So when my cousin invited me to spend the holidays at the castle, I wasn’t thrilled. He informed me that there was some trouble in the small Ohio town that bordered our ancestral home. A few teenagers had gone missing, and my cousin, Jessie, suspected a vampire was to blame. It made no difference to me if there was a member of the undead giving in to his darker desires, but the family was concerned it would bring unwanted scrutiny. Keeping the existence of vampires hidden from mortals was always a priority to any member of the undead who wished to avoid an encounter with the business end of a stake.

Still, the idea of spending Christmas within easy human reach held little appeal. If the rumors were true, Jessie had fallen in love with a mortal girl. Again. It seemed to be a habit that he couldn’t resist every half century or so. I found the idea curious. How could a vampire love a mortal? The idea seemed too absurd. It was one thing to take a particularly attractive mortal as a companion for a decade or two, but falling in love with one was quite a different story.

At first, I begged off from the visit. I assumed the mortal girl would be present for the holiday festivities, and I didn’t want to become mired in the problems of humans with all their unnecessary emotions. But my father kept urging me to go for the sake of the family. He was always very proper about those kinds of things—as long as it was no inconvenience to him in any way. And I have to admit, I had grown curious about my cousin’s new love. I wanted to see this mortal temptress. I wanted to understand the influence she held over him. And when it came down to committing to a visit, I found that a little mingling with mortals had drawn my attention. I decided it would be a nice diversion from the endless bacchanal of the vampire world.

I did not fly straight to the castle after my arrival in Tiburon. I took the first night to survey the streets and buildings, making my bed in an obliging crypt at the local graveyard. The accommodations weren’t lavish, but I didn’t mind roughing it once every decade or so. I just wanted to have a moment to myself to clear my head. There were some small nuisances in the vampire world that had been blown completely out of proportion and were threatening to expand into actual problems. I’ve never been good at dealing with other people’s emotions, so it was a good time to get away.

Tiburon was a sleepy little town, not without its charms. Most of the mortals were tucked up in their beds. The whole town seemed to be asleep, safe and warm under blankets and flannels. But I knew that couldn’t be the whole truth. I was sure there were parents up pacing the floor, worrying about their missing children, trying to be strong for each other but falling apart when faced with moments alone. I hadn’t been a mortal in many years, but I still remembered the great love that all humans felt for their offspring. I had been turned too young to have children, but I wondered if it was similar to the connection that a maker feels after transforming a mortal into a vampire. I had yet to turn my fangs to the task of giving a mortal the gift of everlasting life, but I had been led to understand that when a vampire does become a maker, a bond is formed that is impossible to deny.